


At the Stroke of Midnight

by Wizards_Pupil



Category: Cinderella (Fairy Tale), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Adventures, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, Awkwardness, Bottom Bilbo, Bottom Thorin, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarves, Erebor, Family, First Times, Friendship, Hobbits, Hobbits like fun, Honor/duty, Misunderstandings, Mixed ages because I can, Mommy Issues, NOT A GENDER BENDER, No one from the company died, Or dies, Pining, Pregnant Dís, Prince duties, Romance, Royalty, Sex, Smaug never happened, Smut, Social Anxiety, Thorin doesn't know how to deal with people, Thorin simply isn't attracted to girls, Top Bilbo, Top Thorin, True Love, court life, fairy tale, magic rings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:42:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1406989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wizards_Pupil/pseuds/Wizards_Pupil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is a trinket I was given at your birth. I have never shown you it as the time was not right before now.” Thrain opened his palm to reveal a golden band. It was smoothed by touch and unadorned. Not spectacular, but Thrain would hardly hold onto such a trinket if it was not worth something. </p><p>“The wizard who gave it to me was quite adamant that you should have it when you were of age.” The king held it out to Thorin. The metal was cool to the touch, but quickly warmed up in the heat of his hand. He ran his fingers along it and nearly shuddered. He could feel it throbbing, nearly vibrating with a strange sort of energy.</p><p>“This ring is not meant for you to wear, of course. It is too small for you. This ring is made to fit only the person that will be your Sanzeuh. You have thirty days in which to find him.”</p><p>Thirty days. Thirty days to find something as ridiculous as true love, or he'd have to marry a beardless, nagging dwarrowdame. Thorin Oakenshield didn't think it could happen. </p><p>And then Bilbo Baggins popped into his life. Though, Thorin could have done without the  cats, shoes, and girly bits. Still, the course of true love never has run smooth. And the peppers were delightful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And I bring you my return to fairy tales! This is based off an idea from my sister who doesn't actually care for anything to do with Middle Earth but loves fairy tales. I try not to judge her taste too harshly.
> 
> Anywho, this is going to be inspired by Cinderella. Unlike most Cinderella's though, I'm doing this from the royalties perspective. Because I can. :D
> 
> I've got a long, twisted tale coming up that will bear very little (if any) resemblance to any version of Cinderella. Also, we will have princess movie quotes with each chapter. Because I have a secret weakness.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Prince Henry: I have been born to privilege, and with that comes specific obligations._   
_Leonardo da Vinci: Horseshit._   
_-Ever After_

* * *

Erebor held a certain beauty that Thorin had never found anywhere else. The kingdom was vast and cool and full of light in a way that no other building could hope to achieve. It was a marvel of architecture and engineering and rose high above what other races could achieve.

The stone was carved in endless patterns and the stars reflected their light off the polished stone at night to make the ceiling glow with a magical light. The sun would make the green stone that they favored in their construction seem a warm, almost grass green and it filled the air with scent of summer.

Thorin loved his home. As all dwarves did. The stone called to them in a way other races didn’t understand. Elves felt the call of trees, Hobbits the call of plants, and men the call of open air. None of them understood the love that dwarves held for stone. The joy in discovering unknown and never before seen caverns and revealing her beauty for all to see.

Whenever court life got to be too much Thorin would slip away to the unfinished upper levels and sit at the edge of the walkway. He could see most of Erebor from there, and he was very rarely, if ever, bothered. It gave him a moment to be alone and to be himself. When only the stone of his beloved home could see him, Thorin didn’t feel judged. He didn’t feel the urge to be anything but himself. He could slouch without feeling guilty. He could read a novel solely for fun, or whittle on wood without fear of repercussion.

After all, Thorin could never do any of that elsewhere. He was the eldest prince in line for the throne. He was not permitted to be anything but distant and perfect. He lived a life that was not his own. It was a life that was under constant scrutiny, and that held the responsibility of all in Erebor.

Today felt like a day he would seek refuge on the walkway.

“I will expect to see you again after you are finished with the knight training.” Thrain stood up from the long table as he spoke. Frerin and Dís kept their head politely bowed. Balin was staring straight forward with with a mild interest that Thorin had never seen anyone else manage to master. Trumpkin, Dróthir, Naín and Óin were all nodding their head in agreement.

“As you wish, father.” Thoirn inclined his head in acceptance and tried not to sigh. Another, personal, meeting would mean that he was going to have a review. Another test. He was tired of being tested. Every move he made, every breath he took felt like a test. He was always watched and everything was always being measured against a standard he couldn’t see and didn’t know how to meet. It was nearly impossible to pass a test to which he did not even know the questions.

“Then this meeting is adjourned.” Thrain turned and left the council chamber with Trumpkin and Naín at his side.The others followed after them, leaving Thorin alone with Balin. He went to his tutor and they walked out of the room together. Dwalin, Thorin’s body guard and most trusted companion, fell in step with them and Thorin felt his shoulders relax slightly.

“Do you know what it is he wishes to speak to me about?” He asked once they were a ways away from the chamber and listening ears.

Balin shook his head with a weary sigh. “Not really, laddie.” He kept his head straight and didn’t meet Thorin’s gaze. That was never a good sign. Balin was a splendid liar when he was in court or he was speaking to dignitaries from other realms.

He was not a good liar when he was speaking to Thorin, Dwalin, or anyone else he was particularly close to.

Thorin stopped walking. Dwalin joined him on the left and they both stared at Balin who took two more steps before stopping and turning towards them slowly. He kept his gaze down.

“You have a practice to get to.” He reminded.

“Balin.” Dwalin warned. Balin huffed and raised his gaze, glaring at both Thorin and Dwalin.

“Fine! Though you’ll have no mind to tend practice when you hear.” He sighed and Thorin watched his shoulders drop dejectedly. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and Thorin’s stomach dropped. Was the news truly that terrible? “Your father has opened wedding negotiations for you.”

That was hardly surprising. The day Thorin had turned of age wedding negotiations had been opened. Balin met his eyes and the sorrow in them made Thorin’s heart speed up. “He has chosen a match. He means to marry you on Durin’s day.”

“It’s September.” Dwalin observed in a gruff voice. Thorin barely heard him. There was a strange rushing noise rising in his ears. “That’s hardly any time.”

“Who?” He didn’t recognize the voice as his own. He’d never heard himself sound so hoarse.

“Lady Tumra of Thahund.” The words settled on his shoulders like a physical weight.. He would, of course, be expected to marry a female… Even though his father knew what his preference was in that regard. It was extremely condemning to hear that it had been decided upon.

“I was told that I would not have to marry until I was one hundred and eighty. Why has the time changed?”

“I-I am uncertain.” There was no lie in Balin’s eyes, so Thorin let it go. He inhaled deeply and let the breath out slowly while he straightened his shoulders. He continued down the path and tried to keep his hands from trembling. This was hardly a surprise. He was royalty. He was made to marry a stranger. He had simply hoped he would have more time. He had just lost twenty years of being single.

Only the lower classes were permitted to marry for something as ‘unimportant’ as love. He was not allowed to even entertain the idea of love.

It was a fanciful notion for children.

Thorin wasn’t allowed to even have friends. Friends were dwarves who got close in order to use you. They always had selfish motives and were never to be trusted. Family was what you trusted. If he could not have something so simple as a friend, why would he be allowed love?

The loss of it should not have left such a bitter feeling in his chest.

-[]-[]-[]-

Thorin left the practice feeling mildly less stressed. He had been a little harsh with his knights, but they were strong and they would heal.

“So,” Thorin turned his head to see his sister had joined him while he was not looking. Dwalin smirked behind her and raised his eyebrow. Thorin carefully did not scowl. “I hear that you are to be married?”

“Dís,” he greeted politely. “Where did you hear such things?” Dís raised her eyebrow and the corner of her lip quirked up.

“My dear nadad (brother), surely you of all people know how well news travels through this kingdom?” Thorin turned his gaze back onto the path ahead of them. He would not be baited. “I heard it from my servant. She has a cousin that works in Thahund.”

“It is true. I am to marry the lady Tumra by October.” Dís stopped and very nearly tripped Dwalin up. Thorin quietly waited for them to both return to his side. He got a cruel sense of enjoyment that he could shock Dís. If he was to be miserable it was nice that he could cause others at least shock. Dís had been allowed to choose her own husband. Frerin as well.

It was petty but Thorin would be lying if he said that his misery did not want company.

“Lady Tumra?”

“You know her?”

Dís nodded her head and scowled. “She is a horrible gossip and a nag. She is also female. Surely Adad (father) knows-”

“Adad likely does not care.”

“But you don’t have to marry a female. I’ve already had a son and I’m pregnant with another child.” She patted her rounded belly where Thorin’s nephew or niece was growing. “Frerin is engaged to a Naina. The family line is already secure. He must know you won’t be able to treat her as a husband should.”

Thorin’s cheeks heated in a blush that only his youngest sibling was able to bring out in him. He glared but she stared back completely unabashed. “What?” she demanded, hands on her hips, “it’s true!”

“True or not does not matter. I will treat her with honor. Adad does not care how secure the line is. He will see me married.”

“Then he could at least get you a handsome lad. Not a flat nosed, beardless, lass!”

“Beardless?”

“She plucks it.” Thorin stopped and turned to look at her with wide eyes. Dís nodded her head sagely. “She has a maid pluck it every night. She even trims her eyebrows.” Brilliant. He was getting a self-conscious female dwarf that had no facial hair. Who apparently gossiped as well. He would not be able to pretend she was anything other than a female. His preferences on such things would be spread through the kingdom in seconds with her loose tongue. He would be a laughing stock.

Again.

“What else does she look like?” Thorin asked slowly. He stared at the path in front of them. He didn’t want to see Dís sympathetic or knowing gaze.

“She’s about my height with black hair. Her eyes are brown and she has sharp cheekbones. She’s exceptionally curvy but thin as well.” Dís tilted her head in consideration. “Kind of odd, actually.”

Very feminine. Essentially everything he disliked. He preferred his partners to be shorter than he was. Not to mention, he liked them better without the female bits.

This would be a disaster. An utter disaster.

“You can’t go through with this, Thorin. It wouldn’t be fair.” Thorin did not stop or turn his gaze. He did not need her telling him it was unfair. That was a fact he was intimately aware of.

It was his duty to his father. He would bear it without complaint.

-[]-[]-[]-

Thrain did not ask him to sit. The king remained seated on his own throne and Thorin stood in front of him with an uneasy churning in his stomach. Thrain’s gaze was heavy and considering, on the edge of disappointed.

Thrain always seemed to look at him with disappointment. Thorin knew his father loved him, but he was quite certain Thrain didn’t like him.  He was certainly not enough to make Thrain proud. He had never had his father’s approval.

With the way his future was unfolding, he would never have his father’s approval.

He stood perfectly still, his back straight, his arms limp at his side, his head held high and facing forward. He counted the seconds away in his head as he always did when he was in his father’s presence. He had already been standing quietly for two minutes.

“You are aware that I have made a contract with Lady Tumra’s father?”

“Yes, sire.” Gaze straight and voice even. Thorin would not betray himself. Emotions were something to be felt when he was alone. If they were felt or acknowledged at all.

“Then you are aware that you have until October to change my mind.”

Thorin’s gaze flicked towards Thrain before resuming its staring at the wall behind Thrain. He cursed the momentary loss of control. “Sire?”

The king sat back on his throne and propped his elbow on the arm rest. He rested his chin in his hand and studied Thorin openly. Thorin remained still and kept his face blank. He was used to being observed. Thrain did it often. Usually in a detached way that often made Thorin feel like little more than an experiment.

Right now it was anything but detached.

“I know your heart, my son. I will not force you to wed Tumra if you can find another before then.”

Thorin’s heart gave a very hard thud in his chest. He felt it through his entire body and it very nearly made him stagger. He forced his back and head to remain straight. _Never let anyone know what you’re thinking. You should never have emotions to conceal._ His father’s words echoed in his head and he stood taller. This was nothing more than a test. He would not fail it.

“I am sorry?” A faint trace of hope leaked into his voice and he steeled himself. He firmly pulled his emotions back in and forced his heart to calm itself.

“Today is September seventy. Durin’s day is October seventh. If, by October sixth, you can find another whom hold your hearts, then I will release you from the marriage contract.” Thrain leaned forward in his seat and clasped his hands in his lap. Thorin felt a bit like the room was spinning around him. His thoughts were desperately trying to spiral out of control. “That gives you thirty one days in which to find one worthy of your love.”

“You would grant me this?” Thorin’s voice cracked and he cursed it in his head. It was the only thing that ever gave him away. He had complete control of all else but his voice. It always seemed to reveal the truth.

“With a stipulation.”

Of course. All things that seemed to good were inevitably too good.

Thrain sat back in the throne and reached into the pocket of his tunic. He pulled a small object out that briefly flashed in the light. He turned his palm upright with the object resting in the middle of it.

“This is a trinket I was gifted at your birth. It is something I have never shown you as the time was not right before now.” Thorin allowed himself a look. It was a golden band. It was smoothed by touch and unadorned. Not spectacular, but Thrain would hardly hold onto such a trinket if it was not worth something. “The wizard who gave it to me was quite adamant that you should have it when you were of age.” The king held it out to Thorin. He took a short step forward and reached out to take it. The metal was cool to the touch, but quickly warmed up in the heat of his hand. He ran his fingers along it and he could feel it throbbing, nearly vibrating with a strange sort of energy.

“This ring is not meant for you to wear, of course. It is too small for your fingers anyway. This ring is made to fit _only_ the person that will be your Sanzeuh.”

Thorin very nearly dropped the gold ring. His eyes shot up to meet his fathers and he found he had no words.

“I am gifting you these thirty days to find the one who it will fit. If you can find your Sanzeuh, and present them to me while wearing that ring, then I will break the contract.” Thrain sat up to his full height and the slight smile that had lingered there dropped away. “You will attend four different balls. One each friday. That should supply you with sufficient mingling opportunities. I will expect you to continue all other duties without distraction. Do not give me reason to regret this kindness.” Thrain nodded his head and waved his hand. “You are dismissed, my son. I will see you tomorrow. The first Ball will be in two days.”

Thorin left the room without breathing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're new to my stories, hello! and you'll need to know this: Sanzeuh = True One. Which is basically my way of saying that one person that a dwarf falls in love with. 
> 
> Adad= Father  
> Nadad= Brother  
> Namad= Sister
> 
> Also Thahund is the closest khuzdul I could get to 'Grey Hills.'
> 
> Spot the Narnia cameos and let me know. I've put one in each of my fics, but this one will have at least three. ;)


	2. Chapter 2

_Char: Ella of Frell you're not like other girls._   
_Ella: You have no idea._   
_-Ella Enchanted_

* * *

**-September 7th-**  
 **-30 days left-**

Thorin closed the door to his bedroom and pulled the bar down over it. The thud of the heavy wooden plank falling into place was startlingly loud in the quiet night. There was a fire burning in the fireplace, and a meal had been set out on the table.

It was perfectly ordinary, but it was different.

Everything was different.

Thorin wandered through his room, not really aware of walking, and went to the table. He pulled a chair out and sat down, still not completely aware he was even moving. His eyes were trained on the bit of gold in his hand. It was made for the hand of a person a lot smaller than him. This would scarcely fit the tip of his pinkie. It was in all appearances unremarkable.

How had he never known? Why had his father never bothered to tell him that such a wondrous thing existed? It had been around since his _birth_. He could have long since found his Sanzeuh. He could never have even been in this situation.

He could already be happy.

Thorin set his hands down on the table, ignoring his dinner, and let the ring slip off his palm onto the table top. It clattered onto the stone with a sharp, high noise. He ran the tip of his finger over it, and felt a strange flutter in his stomach. It felt oddly like hope.

Three quick raps on his door drew his attention away. A hard rap followed the three and Thorin stood up. He went to the door in a few strides and tugged it open to see Dís standing on the other side and glaring.

“Why are you having a ball in two days? Why was I not told until today?”

“Because, namad (sister), I was not told until today.” Thorin answered. Dís pushed his door open and slipped inside the room with confident ease. She had her hand resting on her rounded stomach and it made Thorin smile to see it. She was wearing a loose robe-like dress and had her thick hair pinned up, off her neck to help cool herself off. She went straight to the table and pulled a chair out. She stared at Thorin pointedly until he joined her in the seat he’d been occupying before her arrival. She promptly propped her feet on his lap and smiled.

“So I am now confused. Adad has agreed to marry you but he wants you mingling? Is he looking to help you start an affair before you’re even married? That’s something humans do.” She helped herself to one of the rolls that made up his dinner and tore it into smaller pieces before chewing on them.

“Adad would shave my beard and hair if he caught me carrying on an affair.” Thorin said dismissively. He slipped her shoes off and rubbed her slightly swollen feet. Dís let out a loud, luxurious sigh and sank deeper into her seat with a look of utter bliss.

“Mahal…” she murmured, letting her eyes slip shut as her smile broadened. “You have magical hands, brother. You will make a lad extremely happy. He will not let you leave the bedroom.”

“Dís,” he warned but she just popped one unapologetic eye open and smirked. She stuck another piece of bread in her mouth and chewed before continuing.

“Honestly though, why the ball?” Thorin stared down at his hands and watched the methodical movements.

“Adad is giving me thirty days to find someone I love. If I can, he will not make me marry Tumra.” Dís sat up as much as she could with her large stomach and gaped.

“What?” Thorin nodded his head. He still felt dizzy from the news. It was truly something he had never even considered. He had known he would be married to a near stranger. He had just hoped it was a male he could learn to love.

The chance to find love… There were not words to describe the ecstasy of the thought.

Dís’ toes wiggled in his grasp. He looked up to see her peering inquisitively at him. She’d set the roll aside so he would have her full attention. “You drifted off for a minute.” Her voice was soft, and for a moment, Thorin thought it was that of his mother’s. It was a strange thing and left him feeling far more subdued than he had

“He had a stipulation.” Dís swung her feet off Thorin’s lap and sat forward in her chair.

“Tell me everything.”

-[]-[]-[]-

**-September 8th-**  
 **-29 days left-**

-[]-[]-[]-

Thrain had clearly forgotten to calculate one fairly important detail into his plan of a ball.

Thorin did not socialize. Ever. He had no idea how a person went about ‘mingling.’ He watched other courtiers laugh, flirt, and talk in a silent mystification during social events. He was excellent at handling political situations and the like, but he didn’t know how to connect with people in any other situation. He knew how to get what he wanted out of dwarves when he was in the council room. He had no idea what he was supposed to do when he was just ‘chatting.’ Small talk utterly baffled him.

Thorin was, for all his court training, a wallflower.

He was dressed in a deep red weskit, placed on top of a jewel-bright red Gambeson. Dís had had a pair of wings attached to his back that spread down to the floor in shimmery material. They were modeled after the fire drakes of the north, and were attention drawing. He had a black mask covering his face, and he didn’t have any braids in his hair, save for the one that marked him as looking for a mate.

He felt like he was standing in the middle of a crowd wearing flashing jewels that spelled out ‘look at me!’

And there were so many people! It would be impossible to speak to each of them. How was he meant to find his Sanzeuh, his _one,_ in thousands of dwarves? He did not have the time for this.

It would have been easier to have just made everyone form a line while he tried the ring on each dwarves hand. Which would have been a little ridiculous. Surely he would recognize the One person he was meant to love by sight?

Right?

After an hour of attempting to mingle he had slowly started to back away from the large mass of people dancing in the center of the room and talking. Dwalin had given him a knowing nod and proceeded to run interference while he’d made his way to the back wall where the refreshments were set up.

Thorin had then tried to melt into the shadows with his ridiculously bright costume. He would never let Dís assist with his wardrobe again.

He wanted to find his Sanzeuh, but he didn’t know how. He couldn’t just talk to each dwarf until he found him. He didn’t have the energy or the nerve to go up to random dwarves and try to start a conversation. Plus, he knew a lot of these dwarves and he had no interest of marrying any of them.Others found out who he was and then made it a point to avoid him. They were still judging him for the fiasco that had happened the day he had turned of age.

He was going to have to marry Tumra. He might as well resign himself to it. He’d have a life full of girly bits and gossipy nagging.

Was it too late to pledge himself to Mahal’s worship and take a vow of chastity? Surely that wouldn’t be _too_ extreme...

The only good thing about the corner he had managed to hide himself away in, aside from the lack of dwarves, was that the food was in front of him. After standing quietly for ten minutes and re gathering his wits, he moved forward to see what all the various items were that smelled so tantalizing.

The first plate he reached had some sort of bread with cheese, meat, and a unknown vegetable piled atop. He took one up and plucked the green vegetable off. He inhaled its scent with closed eyes before popping it in his mouth. It was crisp, cool, spicy, and slightly bitter. Liquid burst in his mouth as he bit the pepper, and he couldn’t help the slight smile that lifted his lip.

He plucked the cheese and ham off together and slipped them into his mouth before finishing with the cracker. He took another one up and repeated the process.

“Yavanna’s hoe! That is not how you eat a canape.”

Thorin spun around, his pulse spiking in shock at the unexpected voice. A hobbit stood behind him, wearing a white button up shirt and blue breeches. He had gingery gold curls, blue-green eyes, and a scowl. His hands were on his hips and he was staring at the taken apart hordervue in Thorin’s hand as though it were a fine piece of art that the dwarf had dragged through the mud.

“Pardon?”

The hobbit’s gaze snapped up to meet his eyes and the scowl did not lesson. “That is _not_ how you eat a canape. You do not take it apart. Honestly, you are missing the entire point of it.” Thorin looked back down at the cracker.

“I would have thought its point was to be eaten.”

The hobbit’s eyes widened and he brought his right hand to rest over his heart before tossing his head back. “Eru!” He gasped in mock horror, “give me strength!” He dropped his head back and took up one the ‘canapes.’ He held it towards Thorin, pointed at it expectantly and then popped the entire thing into his mouth. He chewed it for a moment, still holding eye contact, and then swallowed.”You eat it all together.” He took the partially eaten one out of Thorin’s hand and replaced it with a full one. “The flavors enhance each other to create something new and unique.”

Thorin ate the canape, mainly because he had no idea what else he _could_ do. He had never had someone who was not his family or a paid tutor correct his eating habits. Especially when he was actually using manners. It was simply not done.

Unfortunately, the flavors did blend well together, and it was quite good.

“I really only wanted the peppers, but I did not think it polite to steal the green from each horderve.”

The hobbit blinked in surprise before a grin lifted his lips. It brightened his entire being and made him look far younger. “Why didn’t you say?” He dropped to his knees and crawled under the cloth covered table. Thorin’s mouth popped open in surprise as everything but the hobbit’s large feet disappeared. He  crawled back out a moment later with a small bag. He stood up and passed the bag to Thorin while he dusted himself off. Thorin patiently held the bag, a sense of amusement washing over him.

The hobbit looked up and frowned. “Go on, open it up.” Thorin did so and peered inside the cloth bag. Three beautifully green, and completely whole, peppers were inside. “Help yourself. I always bring extras for potential problems. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone else who enjoys vegetables.” he paused, tilted his head, wrinkled his nose and looked to the upper left as though recalling something. “Well, no one other than Bifur but he’s not exactly a normal dwarf.” He leaned forward and brought his left hand up to cover the side of his mouth as though he didn’t want anyone else to know what he was saying. “He eats _flowers_ after all.”

Thorin took one of the peppers out of the bag to have something to do. He wanted to gape at the hobbit but he knew that would be rude. He didn’t want to insult the fascinating halfling. He was enjoying his company. He was unreserved. Completely unlike anyone else Thorin had met.

The hobbit stood back up right and beamed. “I’m Bilbo, by the way. Bilbo Baggins. I’m apprenticed in the kitchens under Bombur.” He thrust his hand out and Thorin had an awkward moment of shuffling the peppers and the bag around until he could clasp the hand.

“Thorin Thrainson.” Bilbo’s eyes widened an impressive amount and his head shot over to where the rest of the dwarves were mingling and dancing. His mouth formed a tiny ‘o’ before turning back to look at Thorin. He knew who Thorin was, then. He was mildly surprised by just how much that disappointed him. “At your service, Master Baggins.” He released the startled hobbit’s hand and hoped that he continued to be friendly. He didn’t want to frighten him into thinking he had to act properly.

“You’re shorter than I would have thought.” Bilbo blushed and brought both hands to his mouth with a squeak.

Thorin raised a wry eyebrow. “I am four and half feet tall. That is quite tall for a dwarf.” Thrain and Dwalin were the only dwarves he personally knew who were taller. “The crowns also tend to add a few inches.”

“And your boots.” Bilbo added, talking around his hands. His eyes were crinkling slightly around the edges which made Thorin think he was probably smiling. He wanted to see it again. Bilbo turned his head slightly to the left to look at the dancing dwarves and Thorin saw that his (curved) right ear had an ear cuff near the top. It was bronze with a stylized tree etched onto it. He’d never seen its like. He also had a piercing on the lobe, and there was a tooth of some kind dangling from a silver chain.

He brought his hands back down and there was indeed a smile. “I’ve no idea how you lot manage to dance in those things. They weigh at least twenty pounds.”

“Dancing does not require one to lift their feet very high.” Thorin pointed out. He was enjoying the banter. Dwalin, Balin, Dís, and Frerin were the only people to ever jest with him.

“Then you are not dancing properly either.” Bilbo clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Goodness me, who has taught you? Dancing should always involve at least three jumps.”

“I have never seen someone jump while they danced.”

“Then,” Bilbo said with a step forward and a grin that Thorin could think of no other word for than ‘wicked.’ “You have not been to a decent party.” He grabbed Thorin’s hand and tugged him back into the shadows behind the columns before releasing him. “Come on, I will show you how to correct this most grievous oversight.”  He then bowed dramatically. “If you will allow me, milord.” he added a lilt to the title that made it sound almost teasing. Thorin inclined his head, utterly out of his element and curious. He felt a bit like a leaf swept away in the wind. He had no control of the situation and he was simply going to be going for a ride.

“Please do.” Bilbo straightened right up and clapped in enthusiasm.

And then he danced. Thorin had been to countless balls and such functions in his life. He had seen various races dance, and none of it was even slightly similar to what he was now watching. The hobbit ducked and twirled, jumped and clapped, waved his hands in the air and twisted his torso to the tune he was imagining. He kicked his legs and spun around Thorin until the dwarf even felt dizzy. It looked happy and full of life.

It made Thorin want to join in. He had no idea how, and knew he could never mimic the movements. He would also be flayed alive if his father caught him. A prince could not afford to lose so much decorum.

No matter how much fun the hobbit made it look.

“And that,” Bilbo declared with a final spin and a bit of a gasp, “is how one should always dance.”

“Like a flailing fish?”

Bilbo let out a loud, shocked laugh and promptly covered his mouth again. They both ducked further into the shadows before peering around the large column that was providing their hiding place to see if anyone had noticed them. They hadn’t.

“Unrestrained.” Biblo turned with his hands on his hips. “Dancing should be fun and free. Not a mere task to be done.” His eyes locked onto something behind Thorin and he gave his head a tiny shake. He mouthed the word ‘no’ and ‘now?’ and then sighed.

“Alas, my ‘master’ has arrived and I’m needed back at my post.” He stepped forward the tiniest bit and bowed low at the waist. “It was an honor to meet you, your Majesty.”

And then he was gone. Thorin did not even get the chance to say goodbye. He clutched the bag of peppers in his hand and looked out at the rest of the ball room. Dís was dancing with her husband and Frerin with Naina. Dwalin and Balin were both bringing young dwarf lads towards him.

Thorin pulled a pepper out of the cloth bag and tried not to sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we'll have a count down to keep track of what the time/date is. Mainly so I don't get confused in writing it. :D Let me know of ANY questions you have. Also, if there is a fairy tale you'd like to see reworked, let me know about it. 
> 
> I'm currently working on a one shot to go along with 'An Ode to Broken Things' that will hopefully be up this weekend. :) 
> 
> And yes, Thorin likes vegetables. I think it would be hilarious if a dwarf prince loved vegetables because it is very much not a dwarf thing to eat green things.


	3. Chapter 3

_I can't believe I did this. *I can't believe I did this!* Mother would be so furious. That's OK though, I mean what she doesn't know won't kill her. Oh my gosh. This would kill her. *This is so fun!* I, am a horrible daughter. I'm going back. *I am never going back!* I am a despicable human being. *Woo-hoo! Best. Day. Ever!*  
-Rapunzel_

**-September 11th-**   
**-26 days left-**

* * *

 

By the end of the end of the night Thorin had decided that Bilbo was the only interesting person he had met. He knew the hobbit’s name and his occupation. Finding him seemed like it would be an easy task.

It took Thorin two and a half days to figure out which kitchen Bilbo worked in. Before the ball he had not realized there was more than one kitchen. There were twenty kitchens that had aided with the ball. That seemed a ridiculous amount at first, until Thorin learned that each one did something different. By the time he had started to ask who all had been contracted with the banquet, Dwalin had found out that he was looking. He had then proceeded to tease him mercilessly while gathering all the information they could.

Bilbo Baggins was forty years old, exactly, and had been living in Erebor for ten years. He lived on the lower levels in the west wing. Apparently with four other dwarves. He was a hard worker and a gifted gardener.

He was also single.

Dwalin was the one that figured out which kitchen the hobbit worked at and then which hours the hobbit worked. Thorin then had to bribe Fili with a cake to get the five year old to distract Dis and Frerin so that he could slip away with Dwalin to the kitchens.

The kitchens were a wonderful place. They were on the lower levels nearest the outside and full of tables, dishes, ovens, sinks, utensils, food, and growing things. They had holes drilled through the ceiling to allow in sunlight, and clear glass to keep any water from falling into the room. Herbs grew up the wall, along with a varying assortment of vegetables that filled the air with a unique scent. Bilbo worked in the kitchen that specifically worked with making appetizers.

Thorin went to the kitchen without his crown and wore his simplest tunic. He talked Dwalin into keeping an inconspicuous post at the door instead of following him around the kitchen. (He had to agree to wear two hidden blades for that.) He didn’t want to attract any extra attention as a prince. Royalty did not visit the kitchen. Rumors would spread through the kingdom in minutes, and his father would hear.

Thrain’s disappointment did not bear thinking about. The lecture afterwards would be unlike any other. He would hear endless babble about how he was a prince and held to a certain standard. Unless he was inspecting something, he should never be in the lower levels. That was where peasants resided. He was certainly not to mingle with them.

He might even lose the right to find his Sanzeuh.

Thorin spotted the hobbit immediately. He was the only hobbit in the kitchen, and he was also the loudest. He was singing a tune that Thorin had never heard while he pulled various vegetables off their respective plants. The dwarf chefs in the room were whistling or humming along with the hobbit while they went about their own task.

Bilbo was wearing another button up shirt, light green this time, and rusty red breeches. He had a dirty grey apron tied around his waist and a sloppily made braid of daisies in his hair. The wilting flowers suited his hair brilliantly, and made him stick out even more than he already did.

Thorin was fascinated.

He watched the hobbit from the doorway for a moment while a large, ginger haired dwarf carried a tray of biscuits out past him. “Are you here for Mister Bilbo?”

Thorin gave his head a little nod and held the door open. He tried to slouch so that his posture wouldn’t give him away. He felt out of place amongst the jolly dwarves in the kitchen. They had flour on their cheeks, food on their clothes, and they were all pleasantly pudgy. Chefs should never be skinny.

“Thank you! He’ll be expecting you then? Well, don’t let him burn the stew.” The dwarf walked out with his tray and Thorin stepped into the actual kitchen. He took a calming breath and inhaled the scents that permeated the air. He could do this. It was simple. He simply had to move his feet and say hello. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was merely getting to know a hobbit. He could even claim that it was for political reasons. Learning about Hobbit culture would help them in trading.

He walked forward.

Bilbo stepped out of the garden area and spotted Thorin when he was about halfway across the kitchen. The hobbit paused and slipped back in surprise. He blinked twice and then seemed to shrug it off. He walked towards Thorin with a grin.

“Help me with this.” Were the first words Bilbo spoke. He then thrust a large basket of vegetables into Thorin’s hands and proceeded to climb up onto the nearest table top. He tugged open a cabinet and grabbed a measuring cup out. He dropped down to his bum and scooted off the counter.  “Okay, I can take that back now, thanks.” He relieved Thorin of the basket of vegetables and turned towards the nearest stove. There was a large, bubbling pot on it.

Thorin exhaled and wondered if ‘hello’ was appropriate now. He had not planned on Bilbo speaking first. He was at a bit of a loss on the proper conversation procedure now.

“I have to be honest,” Bilbo said before Thorin could say hello. He put the basket and measuring cup on the counter, “I did not think I was going to get to see you again.” Thorin walked to the counter he was working at and stood beside it. He clasped his hands behind his back and tried to look relaxed. Natural. As though he visited kitchen workers every day and it was nothing out of the ordinary. “So this is quite a pleasant surprise.”

“Indeed?” He liked the idea of being a ‘pleasant’ surprise.

“Well, I hardly ever get to talk to the ‘upper class.’ Nori and Ori are about as classy as I can get.” The names struck a bell…

“Dori’s brothers?” Bilbo nodded his head and pulled out a bucket of yellow liquid. He dipped the measuring cup in it until it was full. Dori was a member of the court. He was rather high in upstanding. A cousin, if Thorin was not mistaken. (It was occasionally hard to keep up with. He seemed to be related to half the dwarves in Middle Earth)

“Yep. He’s the only one with noble blood. His mother had three different husbands. Dori’s father was the first, obviously, and the only noble one.” Bilbo poured the liquid into the bubbling pot of what looked like soup as he spoke.

“You seem quite knowledgeable of the family.”

“That’s because Nori rarely shuts up.” Bilbo said baldly. he tipped the contents of his basket over and Thorin snagged a small carrot from it. Bilbo watched him with a raised eyebrow. He raised his own in reply and bit off the tip of the carrot. Bilbo smiled. “And he was the first dwarf I met in Erebor. Well… Second I guess.”

“Then who was the first?” Thorin had no idea why he cared. This entire conversation should have been boring. He didn’t know these people, and he had no reason to care. It was flowing nicely though, and Thorin wasn’t feeling strained for topics yet. It almost felt… natural. He took another bite of his carrot.

Bilbo began to sort out the vegetables.

He was simply interesting. He spoke to Thorin like he had known him for a long time. Like he was comfortable with him. It wasn’t faked either, Thorin knew when people were faking interest. Mahal knew it was something he’d had to do a lot in his life. No. Bilbo was relaxed and had open body language. He smiled naturally and didn’t avoid eye contact or move stiffly.

“Bofur, and was that ever an introduction. He ran into me with his hat on fire.” A large, silly grin lifted Bilbo’s lips and he paused with his hands on a radish. Thorin finished off the carrot, barely aware of what he was chewing. “I wasn’t even of age at that time. I was half convinced there was a dragon here.”

Thorin watched as Bilbo set the vegetables aside. “Anyway, that was over twenty years ago. Goodness, how time flies.” He grabbed a ladle that seemed to almost materialize out of thin air and stirred his soup with a critical gaze. His braid fell over his ear as he tended to the soup and Thorin took the opportunity to study the style. It was an apprenticeship braid. There were Forget-Me-Nots woven in it today.

“Did you come to Erebor for an apprenticeship?”

Bilbo shook his head and poured another cup of the yellow liquid into the pot of soup. “No. I first came to Erebor simply in the name of adventure with my mom. I’m from the Shire, originally. Its beside the Blue Mountains… wait, what do you lot call it?” Bilbo tilted his head thoughtfully as he set the cup aside. He turned around and pulled a chopping board off the top cabinet and set it down in a distracted manner. It didn’t occur to Thorin to give Bilbo the answer before the hobbit was speaking again.

“Ered Luin! Yeah, that’s it.” He pulled a bundle of green, leafy vegetables out of a drawer and spread them out on the chopping board with care. “Anyway, we lived in a house at the top of the hill with my father. Quite happily for a while. Then mom walked in one day to find dad sleeping with the neighbor and she packed our bags for an adventure.” He pulled a knife from a wooden block with several others and returned to the chopping board. He gathered up a pile of greens methodically. His lips quirked up in a small, fond way. Thorin wished he knew what the memory he was recalling was.

“We went all over the place. Ered Luin, Bree, Rivendell… We even visited Rohan before we went through Greenwood and found ourselves at Erebor.” Bilbo took his knife up and brought it down over the greens in a rocking movement that looked a bit precarious to Thorin. “I’m still not sure how we ended up here.”

“Your mother sounds like quite the woman.” Thorin grabbed a chopped piece of the green leaf and smelt it. Kale.

“Oi!” Bilbo snatched it back. “None of that. This is a very specific recipe. I will not have you making it subpar because you’re hungry now.” He set the leaf back in the pile and Thorin found himself grinning. “Yes, my mother was quite the woman.”

Was… Thorin’s grin slipped away. He understood the pain of ‘was’ better than most.

It was something that never went away. Something that sprouted up at random times and made it hard to breathe. A pain that was a constant companion.

“So, tell me about yourself.” Bilbo said companionably after a moment. He tipped his cut kale into the soup and passed a small piece to Thorin. He pinched it with two fingers and used it hide the grin that was coming back.

Wait. He had to answer. What was there to tell? He was rather dull, for a prince. “I am prince of Erebor. I have two siblings-”

“I know that!” Bilbo laughed and grabbed up one of the carrots. “Something interesting. What do you do for fun?”

Thorin paused with his hand in the air. He had the kale on the tip of his tongue. Just enough to get a hint of pepperiness.

What, Mahal help, did he do for fun?

He must have been silent for too long. Bilbo gave him a look out of the corner of his eye. “Read.” He finally blurted, with no idea why.

“What?”

“I read.” Bilbo snorted and flashed a quick smile before looking back down at the tomato he was cooking.

“No, _what_ do you read. Details. They’re what conversations are made of.” He side eyed Thorin and smirked. Thorin swallowed and put the kale down as he stood straighter.

“Everything. Philosophy, history, science…”

“Informative books then?” Bilbo asked with a crooked smile. Thorin felt his cheeks redden for absolutely no reason. It utterly baffled him.

“I occasionally enjoy a mystery.” Why had that sounded like a confession?

Dwalin was the only dwarf that knew that. He knew the most about Thorin because of the amount of time they spent together. Dwalin was his closest friend, in a way, but it seemed strange calling him a friend. The bodyguard had been there since Thorin was young. They had grown together and fought together. Battle was something that forged connections deeper than friendships. It was more of a brothership. Dwalin was someone he could trust his life to. He had never, and would never betray his bodyguard. The dwarf would never betray him either.

Still. It was weird to tell something to someone he had just met that only one other person knew.

It was oddly liberating.

“I love a good mystery. Personally, I find the ones that deal with the way a person thinks the most interesting. There’s just something fascinating in reading about crazy people. Though fairy-tales are my favorite type of book.” He paused before looking at Thorin. “Now you tell me why you like mysteries.” Thorin raised his eyebrow and felt a tiny hint of a smile reappear.

“They’re tidy and thought provoking.” Thorin rolled the green leaf around in his fingers. Vegetables were always bright. Growing things were the only bright aspects to be found in food. “They’re methodical and answer all the questions. Nothing is sloppy or unfinished in mysteries. You’re not left wanting to know anything else about the plot.” He rested his elbow on the counter and propped his chin up in his hand. Bilbo kept chopping even pieces without having to look at his hands. “Why do you like fairy tales?”

“Very good. You’re learning. You’ll be a conversation professional yet.” Bilbo praised with a cheeky grin and a wink. Thorin popped the kale in his mouth to stop himself from smiling too largely.  

“Sire,” Dwalin walked up to him with measured steps and a gaze that never stayed in one spot long as it scoped out the kitchen. “I’m afraid that your presence is needed up stairs.”

Thorin nodded his head understandingly and regarded Bilbo with a wry grin. He had wanted to know why the hobbit enjoyed fairy tales. “Alas, duty calls.”

“Well, if you can make it down again I’ll save  you a few vegetables. I also have a bottle of my grandfather’s vineyard stashed away. A very good year.” He winked and Thorin felt oddly lighter and very self aware.

“Then I shall indeed return.” Hopefully soon. He followed his guard out of the room and tried to appear calm.

“So that was the hobbit, hmm?” Thorin kept his stride even and his gaze forward.

“Yes, he was the hobbit.” Dwalin snorted beside him but Thorin continued to keep his gaze straight. He did not want to see the smirk on his comrades face.

“And?” Dwalin prodded.

“He is interesting.” Thorin answered honestly. He diplomatically ignored the teasing note in Dwalin’s voice. “I should like to learn more about him.”

“Then you did ask him out.” Dwalin sounded proud and Thorin almost stopped. He managed to keep his pace and turn down the appropriate hall.

“No.”

“By Mahal’s shiny hammer, why not? You’ve only got twenty days.”

Thorin took a slow breath and tried to keep the panic in his mind from rising up. He hardly needed to be reminded of his deadline. It was a horribly tangible thing. Impossible to forget.

“I do not think he would be interested.”

“You’re the prince. Hard to get more appealing than that. You’ve not got a bad personality either, I guess.” The last was said with a wink. Thorin simply glared. "Who knows? You might even be attractive by his race." Thorin graciously ignored his body guard and kept walking.

“He’s got small hands too.” Dwalin added as he pulled the door to Thorin’s chamber open. He slipped inside before Thorin could make a reply.

And Thorin didn’t know what his reply would have been anyway. Bilbo did have delightfully small hands.

-[]-[]-[]-

- **September 14th-**  
 **-23 days left-**

-[]-[]-[]-

Bilbo was exceptionally different from anyone Thorin had ever known. He met with him again the next two evening, for longer periods of time, and this morning. The hobbit had actually set him to a task. He’d chopped vegetables for nearly the entire time.

It was relaxing. Thorin hadn’t expected that. It was a simple task, something that was probably ‘beneath’ his station, but by Mahal he had enjoyed it. It took very little focus, and it had made a delicious baked thing when he’d finished.

Bilbo was exciting. He didn’t make Thorin feel awkward with unnecessary small talk, and he had an impressive supply of interesting and random things to say. He spoke about his friends, of which there were many, and told stories of the adventures they got into.

He didn’t seem to care that Thorin was royalty. He called Thorin out and teased him. It was a little like Dwalin, but with a lot more laughter.

He hadn’t spoke much about his personal life outside of the time before he got to Erebor. Thorin was painfully curious, and desperate to ask if he had a significant other or if he was even interested in males.

Thorin was not the most attractive dwarf, but Bilbo seemed to at least like him.

Thorin wanted to see him again. Possibly even ask him out, but he wasn’t certain how. He’d only ever had one dwarf ask him out, and that had all been a lie.

He was scared to have that happen again, and he was scared to wait. He didn’t really have the time.

Aside from his internal battle over Bilbo, life carried on as normal. Thrain increased his workload in an effort ‘to keep Thorin’s heads out of the clouds.’  As if Thorin ever had time for daydreaming. That was a frivolous pastime that royalty did not allow. There was no time for something as pointless as daydreaming. Not when he had training with the knights, endless contracts to oversee, mines to inspect, techniques to learn, and courts to hold.

He was tired by days end. There was no time to look for a Sanzeuh. Thrain had been serious when he said that the balls would be his only chance. The ring remained untried in his pocket. Its weight was a constant reminder of the time that was starting to slip away.

And there would be another ball in a day.

“You know,” Dwalin observed with a bit of a bored sigh, “this thing is really not much help.” He poked the gold ring with the tip of his finger and frowned. Thorin watched him out of the corner of his eyes while he read over the latest tax proposal.  His father wanted to initiate another one on trade. Apparently his marriage to Tamru would open new trade opportunities and his father was wasting no time on earning profit from the potential endeavour.

It felt as though Thrain was already dismissing any chance he had of finding the one who would hold his heart.

Frerin was supposed to be reading the proposal with him, but he was more interested in courting Naina than whatever was written in the proposal. His brother never read any legal laws if he could help it. He would simply wait for Thorin to finish whatever it was and then have him explain what it had said. Thorin felt like a cheat, and a bit used, by the agreement, but he went along with it anyway.

“Its size is limiting at least.” Thorin flipped a page of the parchment and tried not to squint. The writing was getting smaller the further into the document he got. These things never failed to give him a headache.

“Yeah.” Dwalin reached for the ring and grasped it in his left hand. “With how small this thing is your Sanzueh is either a child or a--woah.” He jerked his hand back and dropped the ring onto the table with a clatter and a squeak. His gaze shot to Thorin in wide eye shock. Thorin looked down to see what had garnered such a reaction from his unshockable friend.

The band of gold was larger than it had been, and it was shrinking. A moment passed and it was back to its normal size.

“It grew!” Dwalin growled, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “It just grew!”

“Did it harm you?” Thorin grabbed the ring up and held it to the firelight. It looked the same as ever. Touch worn and solid gold. It thrummed with faint energy and reflected the firelight with a warm glow.

“No… It just got larger.” Dwalin frowned and held out his hand. “Let me see it again.” Thorin held the ring out and dropped it into Dwalin’s open palm. Nothing happened for a heart beat and then Dwalin flinched as the ring grew larger.

Big enough to fit his finger.

Dwalin considered it with a more pronounced frown. “Well, this could make for one very awkward conversation with Thrain.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Thorin reached for the ring but Dwalin snatched his hand back. He raised his other hand and wagged his finger in a ‘no.’

“Uh-uh. I just got this. I want to see if it fits. You might be my Sanzeuh after all.” He made a kissing motion and Thorin glared. This was not humorous. He needed the ring to work properly, it was his only hope of getting out of his match with Tumra. Though, if it fit anyone that would make matters easier… So long as his father didn’t test it out.

Dwalin turned the ring around in his palm, examining it with a furrowed brow. “It is kind of vibrating. Does it usually do that?”

“Yes.”

Dwalin glanced up at him and offered a small smile that was probably meant to be comforting but was far too close to a grimace. He took the ring in his right hand and slipped it on his finger.

Nothing happened for a moment. They both stared at the ring, and Thorin felt his heart start to hammer in worry.

“Ouch!” Dwalin jumped up, out of his chair, and started to jerk wildly on the ring. It came off and he tossed it back on the table. Thorin stood up, scooped the ring, and went to his friend’s side. He dropped the ring in his pocket and grabbed Dwalin’s hand.

“It started to shrink again. And it _burned_.”

Thorin turned the hand over and inspected it. There was a faint ring of pink skin where the band had been. “It looks like you were scalded.”

“Well,” Dwalin finally said, tugging his hand free and giving it a shake. “with that growing trick you’re going to have a fun time finding the lad that fits your little ring. They’ll know if doesn’t though.” He gave his hand another shake.

Because more complications was precisely what Thorin needed.


	4. Chapter 4

_I just know, before this is over, I'm gonna need a whole lot of serious therapy. Look at my eye twitchin'_   
_-Donkey ‘Shrek’_

**-September 15th-**   
**-22 days left-**

* * *

 

Thorin didn’t actually like dressing up. He felt out of place in the fine silks and like he was simply putting on a show. He was far more comfortable in his armor.

That probably spoke a lot about his life.

Still, this costume was much better than the previous had been. He was dressed entirely in black, and even though he still had wings they were far less conspicuous than the red dragon wings had been.

He could do without the beak on his mask though.

Thorin pushed it up in annoyance. It cut off part of his vision, but it no longer felt like he couldn’t breathe through his nose. He’d take less vision over suffocation. He smoothed his hand over the feathers on his tunic in an attempt to keep them down. They continued to twist up.

“So we have a basic plan of attack, right?” Frerin straightened his collar and rolled his neck. He didn’t care for dressing up either.

“We pretend the females aren’t present, as well as anyone who is already taken.” Dís replied as she walked around to face Thorin. She tugged Thorin nearer by his tunic and fixed the troublesome feathers. They flattened for her.

“No one who is glaring or smells bad.” Frerin added. Thorin raised his eyebrow. Frerin looked completely unabashed. “What? You don’t want someone who smells like old cheese.”

“Stop turning your head.” Dís grabbed his chin and forced his gaze back forward. She fiddled with his mask so that it was blocking his nose again. “What are we doing with potentials?”

“Getting their names.”

“And then? Am I to dance with each one?” Frerin gaped at him.

“Dance? You? We wouldn’t subject anyone to that. We’re just going to go for a quick conversation. Unless you want to try and randomly slip your ring on people?”

“Don’t be silly, nadadith (younger brother).” Dís chided. “It’s far too small to fit any of-why are you grinning?” Her eyes zeroed in on Dwalin who was smirking. Thorin turned his glare on to the dwarf and he simply smiled all the more.

“Why, your majesty, have you not told them?”

“Told me what?”

“The ring grows.” Thorin answered. He pulled the ring out of his pocket and held it out for her to take. Dís looked at it uncertainly before accepting it. A few seconds passed and the ring grew.

“Don’t put it on!” Dwalin warned. He snatched it away before she could be tempted. “It burns like Mahal’s forges!”

“Well that’s of no use.” Dís declared with a hand in the air. “How can we be expected to find his One in that mass?” She indicated the ball room with a wave of her hand. “The ring size and the dwarf’s sex were the only two ways of narrowing the crowd down!”

Thorin took the ring from Dwalin and slipped it into his pocket. He didn’t know why he’d bothered bringing it along. The entire affair was pointless. He didn’t stand a chance of finding his One. It would be better to just resign himself to marrying Tumra. The hope of finding his Sanzeuh, was driving him to despair. It would be far more painful when he failed in the task and had to wed Tumra.

Despair only happened when one dared to hope. That was all hope was. A conduit through which pain operated.

“Hey,” Dís tilted his head so that his gaze was on her. Her face was soft and her eyes sympathetic. “Stop that. This is a happy affair. Somewhere in that room your soul mate is waiting. We just have to flesh him out.”

“How can you know he is in there? That he even exist?” Thorin tried to sound dismissive but neither of his siblings looked even slightly fooled.

“Because that,” Dís tapped the pocket where the ring was, “is a wedding band, nadad. It was given to Adad by a wizard who intended on you finding him. Mahal wouldn’t have allowed such things to happen if he didn’t want you to find him.”

“We just have to hope that your Sanzeuh is a little more social than you.” Frerin added. He twisted one of his cufflinks in a nervous habit and the little motion made Thorin feel better. He wasn’t alone. His siblings had his back, and regardless of what was going to happen, that wasn’t going to change. They had both found their Sanzeuhs, there was hope yet.

Despair or not, he could try to find the dwarf. He owed it to his Sanzeuh.

“Then let us make our entrance.”

“Relax, brother mine,” Dis said and looped her arm through his. She tugged him nearer and grinned around the purple mask she had on. It didn’t block her nose at all. “All you have to do is smile and say hello.”

-[]-[]-[]-

Smiling and saying ‘hello’ was a lot more taxing than Thorin had initially thought it would be. His sister, brother, tutor, and guard were _excellent_ at finding available, if not attractive, dwarves.

They were terrible at finding _interested_ dwarves.

Thorin was aware that dwarves, more than any other race, were uninterested in relationships unless the dwarf in question was extremely enticing. They were a race of people who loved their crafts. They found a fulfillment in it and their home that no other race really understood.

They didn’t need relationships. They were fine not having a mate until their Sanzeuh appeared. If they appeared.

Thorin was also aware that the line of Durin was not the most attractive family of dwarves. They were too dark, too tall, and too sharp featured.

He was also aware that not all dwarves were interested in the same sex.

He had still not expected to talk to twenty dwarves and not have found a single one that was even slightly interested. The fact that he was getting married in less than a month was not helping matters either. All the nobility were aware of his marital status, and only nobility were allowed to attend the ball. The dwarves he managed to hold something resembling a conversation with all made excuses and fled the minute he started to ‘flirt.’ He thought describing his attempts at flirting as ‘flirting’ was being generous though.

He didn’t even realize he was backing away from the crowd until he was once again standing in the shadows by the buffet table.

A skewer with green peppers, tomatoes, and beef was thrust under his nose. He accepted the snack and turned his head towards Bilbo sheepishly. The hobbit was rocking back and forth on his large feet with an insatiable grin. Thorin pulled one of the peppers off and tried not to look too embarrassed.

“You,” Bilbo said with a cheerful lilt while Thorin chewed, “are hiding again.”

“I am gathering my wits.” He said it in as dignified a manner as he could while munching on a pepper with a ridiculous beak mask. Bilbo grinned all the wider and stepped closer. He clasped his hands behind his back and leaned sideways towards Thorin as though he were going to share a secret.

“Did you lose them by the charred ham?”

“No, in the cheddar soup.” He shook his head and the beak mask slipped down his nose. Bilbo snorted and tried to stifle the noise behind a hand. Thorin pushed the beak back up to it’s proper place and lamented his life circumstances. He failed at socializing and the only person he actually wanted to talk to probably found him ridiculous.

He looked like an idiot.

“Why do you keep having balls if you dislike them so much?” Bilbo asked after a moment. Thorin pulled off the tomato on his skewer and chewed it slowly. He looked out to where other dwarves were mingling and dancing. They were swirls of earth colors, and the sound of their voices, mingled with laughter, rose up with the music. He wanted to join the magical setting, but he wasn’t really a part of it. It was a world of wonder that escaped him.

“They are not mine to have or not. I simply must attend.” He tugged another pepper free from his skewer and inhaled its scent. It reminded him of the first night he met Bilbo. It made him feel oddly sad. Longing almost.

“Well that seems a bit rubbish. Why does Thrain keep holding them for you if you don’t like them?”

“Because I must socialize.” Bilbo’s expression was instantly incredulous.

“And yet here we are once again hiding in the shadows.”

“Gathering my wits, as I already said.” He eyed Bilbo out of the corner of his vision and smirked. “You are the one hiding.”

“I’ll have you know I’m working.” The hobbit’s hands went to his hips. Thorin nodded his head knowingly, his chest feeling lighter.

“Of course. Quite hard too, by the looks of it.”

“Why you! Insolent dwarf.” Bilbo grumbled. There was a slight lift to his lips and Thorin found himself extremely happy to have had some part in causing the smile. It made his stomach fluttery and his cheeks warm.

It had been a long time since that had happened.

“Well, majesty, if you’re not hiding, then why are you back here?” Bilbo grabbed a stuffed mushroom from one of the platters in front of them and nibbled on it expectantly. Thorin waited for a dwarf to pass them by before speaking.

“Because I am exhausted. Few people ever come to the buffet table as it is difficult to talk and dance while holding a plate.”

Bilbo took another bite of his mushroom. Thorin finished off his kabob and disposed of the skewer. He paused momentarily, realizing he didn’t have anything to do with his hands now.

“The last talk looked rather painful.” He commented. Thorin stuffed his hands into his pocket and tried not to grimace too obviously.

“It was. I am apparently too tall. He disliked that.”

Bilbo’s face scrunched up in distaste or knowing. Thorin was uncertain which. It was oddly adorable either way. “That seems silly. Taller guys are attractive. If they’re tall and  strong, then it’s a bonus.”

“Why?”

“Because that makes it easy to get personal with walls.” He winked exaggeratedly and grabbed another mushroom. Thorin frowned in confusion and Bilbo snorted around a mouthful of mushroom.

“Tall and strong means it’s easy for them to lift me. We can mahabrûf (fuck) against the wall.”

Years of court training was the only reason that Thorin did not splutter. He was thankful for the blasted mask covering up so much of his face and making it impossible to breathe. It blocked the red of his cheeks. Bilbo just said things like that. He had no qualms about saying what he was thinking regardless of the contents.

“That explains why I find smaller males attractive.” Great Mahal take him away. Why had he said that out loud? Did the valar simply wish him to die of embarrassment?

Bilbo laughed loudly and brightly. He beamed at Thorin as though he approved of his temporary insanity. The flush of embarrassment morphed into a far more pleasant warmth.

And he now knew that Bilbo was indeed attracted to males. The hobbit was available and possibly interested. That was more criteria than anyone else in the kingdom had seemed to fit.

“Come on.” Bilbo swallowed the rest of his mushroom and dusted his hands off on the table cloth. It was a wonderfully improper thing to do. He closed the distance between Thorin and himself and held a hand out. Thorin blinked down at it, feeling a bit like he had missed something.

“I’m sorry?”

“You are going to dance. With me.” Thorin’s heart thumped at the thought, and he was mildly surprised by just how appealing the notion was. Thorin would be blatantly lying if he said he didn’t notice that Bilbo was delightfully bright, vibrant, funny and not at all displeasing to look at. He looked soft and his eyes were sparkling under the star light that illuminated the ballroom. His curls dangled about his face in cheerful spirals and Thorin wondered what they would look like swaying as he twirled the hobbit around.

The lack of beard was not off putting as it probably should have been. It might have been that Bilbo was still obviously masculine despite the lack of facial hair. He was also delightfully small, and soft. He wasn’t stocky like dwarves, but slightly pudgy. The way a healthy hobbit should be.

Thorin just liked Bilbo. He didn’t want to dig too far into why.

“You haven’t once all night.” Bilbo added. Thorin realized he’d simply been staring at Bilbo for who-knew how long. He flushed and promptly tried to hide it behind a (hopefully) coy smile.

“Why, have you been watching me, Master Baggins?” Bilbo chuckled, a wonderfully light sound, and shook his head. His curls bounced and Thorin found his eyes drawn to the simple motion.

“I wanted to see if you really were as bad at is as you led me to believe last time.” He stepped closer so that the tip of his toes were touching Thorin’s boots. “You wouldn’t deprive me the chance to tease, would you?”

Thorin found himself quite spellbound by the sparkle in the blue-green eyes that he needed to find a word for. Bilbo glanced to the left quickly and smirked when he met Thorin’s eyes again.

“Besides, your guard is coming this way, and he has a very annoyed looking Dwarrowdame with him.”

Thorin didn’t even bother to look. He placed his hand in Bilbo’s and followed him through the sea of swirling colors to a secluded corner of the dance floor. The hobbit’s hand was soft and warm. It fit nicely inside his much larger one. He was eager to know what the rest of him felt like. Bilbo stopped and turned around to step nearer to Thorin. His shorter, softer, body was warm and bright, and suddenly right _there_. Free for Thorin to touch.

It was almost scandalous. His father would be so disapproving. He was dancing with a hobbit, and a common hobbit at that. He was even an apprentice!

He clutched the hand tighter. He was half afraid that this entire evening was nothing more than a dream that was about to disappear. Nothing more than a lie, as his previous experience with such things had been.

Bilbo’s other hand draped around his waist, settling at the small of his back and Thorin had to grit his teeth to stop the shiver that shot up his spine at the simple contact. He settled his own free hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and stared down at the hobbit. Bilbo, with a small smile and a graceful step, started to lead him around the shadowed corner.

It felt like floating. As though they were gliding through the air. He didn’t mind that Bilbo was leading the dance. (and Thrain would have his head for that) He welcomed the change. It allowed him to simply focus on the smiling hobbit in front of him. On the way Bilbo’s eyes crinkled around the edges, the way his curls bounced with each twirl, and the way his lips looked fuller the wider he smiled. Bilbo led him with the softest pushes and the difference in their heights didn’t seem to bother him at all.

“We’re not lifting our feet.” Thorin managed after they completed another waltz around the corner. He had no idea how long they’d been swaying around the floor. He was uncertain under Bilbo’s smiling gaze, and he didn’t fully trust himself not to do something he’d regret. His tongue had already been too loose tonight, and he had to be careful. He could never be sure who all was watching.

He didn’t know how Bilbo felt either. It was extremely dangerous to get attached to anyone without knowing they were more attached.

“Because we’re waltzing, my dear prince.” Bilbo replied. His voice was airy and quiet. “If we attempted to really dance, we’d probably be kicked out.” He smirked. “We can’t have your reputation being smudged.”

It happened quickly. Thorin jerked his hand away from Bilbo and stepped back. His heart pounded in his chest and he felt dizzy and ill. He feared he would actually vomit for a terrible, long, moment.

He felt icy cold. The memories were coming back with a vengeance, and the emotions they had plagued him with were rising up. Attraction and desire were a weakness. Searching for a Sanzeuh or not, he could not fall prey to it again. The walls he’d taken years to build rose up and blocked off all expression. His father’s voice thundered through his head, warning him not to be weak. Not to _feel_.

“Thorin? What-what did I say?” Bilbo stepped nearer but Thorin took another step back. He couldn’t be too near Bilbo or he wouldn’t be able to speak. He needed to think and speak. “I’m sorry?” The hobbit was growing pale and looked oddly frantic, “I-I could dance with you properly if you’d like?” He reached out for Thorin but stopped when the dwarf was unable to control his flinch. “I just don’t want you getting in trouble with your father-”

“Peace,” Thorin ordered, his voice gravelly. Bilbo snapped his mouth shut and frowned. “It is not your fault, Master Baggins.” The hobbit’s brow drew together and he looked irritated. “I simply have to leave.”

“Dulikhmuzm hubmu. (bull shit)” Bilbo stood straighter and dared Thorin to contradict him.

“You know khuzdul?” It was a stupid stall, as Bilbo clearly would know. He had spoken khuzdul words on multiple occasions. Bilbo squared his shoulders and glared.

“Some, and don’t change the subject. What did I do to make you angry? You’re putting that mask back on. The same one you were wearing when we first met, and I’m not talking about the dragon.”

Thorin stood straight and glared right back. He had height and size on his side, but Bilbo didn’t look even mildly intimidated. He looked more irritated if anything.

The angle was wrong. Thorin was used to having to glare up. Everything in life seemed taller than him. It was odd to find a creature that was shorter. And to find someone he didn’t actually want to glare at.

Feeling was weakness. He had to stop. He hardened his gaze.

And then Bilbo just slumped. His shoulders dropped and his head tilted down. The fierceness left his expression and it turned sad and defeated. “Sorry. I just thought we were-” he sighed and turned away.

Thorin suddenly felt frantic. Bilbo was leaving thinking he had lost something. Thorin wasn’t sure what, or why it mattered so much, but he did not want Bilbo leaving sad. Not when it was the fault of his memories. He would not purposefully cause the hobbit to leave sad. “No,” he reached for Bilbo’s arm and turned him. The hobbit kept his head turned away and his body rigid. “It was not your fault, Bilbo. Truly… It simply… I remembered an unpleasant occurrence.”

“That I reminded you of.” Bilbo turned his head slightly towards Thorin, not enough to actually see him.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry. Do you… Do you want to talk about it? Or continue dancing?” Thorin shook his head and Bilbo slumped a bit more. He had not ‘talked’ about it to anyone. Not his siblings, not Dwalin. He had essentially pretended it had never happened. He had hoped that he would never have to relive the memories.

But Bilbo was shrinking away. He could see it in the hobbit’s eyes. This mattered to him. For some reason, Thorin choosing not to talk to Bilbo was devastating to the hobbit. Bilbo looking devastated was devastating Thorin, and there really only seemed to be one way to stop it.

He made a choice, and he did not understand himself. “No. Not here. Tomorrow, perhaps?”

Bilbo turned his head to fully look at Thorin. His eyes were still guarded but his shoulders were relaxing. “Where? The kitchens? I imagine so.”

Thorin shook his head. He didn’t want Bilbo to think he could only be seen with him in the kitchen or the shadows of a ball room. He was breaking his father’s rules. He was opening himself up to terrible pain.

But there would be no reward without a risk of pain. “Somewhere else.”

“My place? I have housemates, but they won’t mind me using the kitchen for the night.” He shrugged. “If you don’t want to be in my room or something.”

“That… that will work. I will come after court. Around seven?” Bilbo nodded his head, and a little light returned to his eyes. His lips quirked up the slightest bit and Thorin released his grip on the hobbit’s shoulders.

“It’s a date, majesty.” And then the hobbit was walking away. As if he hadn’t just struck Thorin speechless.

A date?


	5. Chapter 5

_Genie: All right, sparky, here's the deal. If you wanna court the little lady,  
you gotta be a straight shooter. Do you got it?_

_Aladdin: What?_

_Genie: Tell her the truth!_   
_-Aladdin_

 

**-September 16th-**   
**-21 days left-**

* * *

 

Thorin was trembling inside. To anyone but Dwalin, Balin, and his siblings, he was the perfect picture of poise. He was standing tall, immaculately dressed, and had a neutral expression. He looked at ease.

He was afraid he might be sick.

“You sure you don’t want any ale?” Dwalin asked as they neared the house that Bilbo lived in. Thorin gave his head a stiff shake and concentrated on keeping his gait even. “Because you look a bit ill.”

“And you look like a troll.” Thorin returned. Dwalin snickered.

“Sassy. You shouldn’t hang out so much with the little one. He’s a bad influence.”

The door to Bilbo’s place was in front of him, and Thorin could not have told anyone what Dwalin had just said. He stood still and stared at the wood.

He was crazy. He’d gone mad. The ring had surely driven him insane. There was no other explanation for why he was here, ready to talk to the hobbit about something he had not mentioned since it had happened.

“You knock on it.” Dwalin instructed with a grin. Thorin glared and Dwalin continued to grin. “Need a demonstration?”

Thorin rapped his knuckles against the door. It was tugged open and a dwarf with ginger hair that spiked out in three directions opened it. He had a partially braided beard and a long nose. There was flour on his cheek and paint on his tunic.

“Hi there, can I help you?”

Thorin blinked and realized he was staring. He swallowed and nodded his head. “Yes, I’m here for-”

The dwarf was shoved out of the way and the hobbit he’d come for stepped in the ginger’s place. “Hey! You’re early.” He tugged the door open wider and motioned for Thorin to step inside. “Come on in, excuse my housemates and the eternally present mess.” Thorin stepped inside as Bilbo grabbed his elbow to guide him forward. He glanced around the room and felt his eyes widen.

It was a sitting room of some sort, decorated with three sofas of different designs and different ages. There was plush green one that looked like it had lost a fight with a mountain lion, a red one that looked like something Dís would have, and a blue one that was close to the ground and threadbare. A worn coffee table sat at the center of a semi circle the sofas formed. Books, papers, and cups littered the table surface. There were plates, shoes, socks, papers, and various other things on the floor and the few pictures on the wall were crooked.

Thorin had never seen anything like it.

Three dwarves were seated on the couches. One had gingery brown hair that was cut in a simple style with a few braids hanging down. He was young, no more than ninety, and had blue eyes. He wore an oversized, knit sweater and had on a pair of crocheted gloves. He had a book open in his lap and his legs were curled up on the couch. A cat was sitting on his feet and staring at Thorin with a very disapproving gaze.

Another dwarf sitting to his right looked about Thorin’s age. He had brown hair that was loosely braided into three sections and turned up at the edges. He had on a worn hat that turned up at the ends in a peculiar style. He had on an old jacket and was smoking something that Thorin had never smelt before. His brown eyes were bright and mischievous, and he was smirking behind his pipe.

The last dwarf was certainly the oddest. He had black and grey hair braided in a harsh style, and wild grey eyes. He had fur on that matched his hair color and was whittling away at a piece of wood that was vaguely bird shaped. He also had the end of an axe sticking out of his head.

Thorin tried not to stare.

“These are my housemates, we’re just missing Gimli.” Bilbo said as he tugged on Thorin’s arm to get him all the way in the house. Dwalin walked in behind him and shut the door. “That’s Nori and his brother Ori, Bofur and Bifur.” He paused, his hand in the air and looked around.

“Where did Frodo get to?”

Seven people lived in this house?

“Last I saw him the lad was playing with Sebastian.” The dwarf with the hat, Bofur, said around his pipe.

“Frodo lad, come on and meet my guest!” He tugged Thorin nearer and smiled sheepishly. “This is Thorin by the way. And I swear to Yavanna, if any of you make me regret bringing him here tonight, I will shave your beard.” Bofur and Nori laughed while Ori grinned. Bifur stared at the cat.

A door at the back of the room popped open and a tiny bundle of green and brown rushed into the room after a frazzled looking cat. It aimed straight for Bilbo with a ‘where were you?’ and nearly knocked the hobbit over. Bilbo wrapped it up and lifted him. “Frodo!” he greeted with a beatific smile while the cat ran for Ori. “I’ve been here for a while.”

“I didn’t see you.” The bundle reached a small hand out and pushed the hooded cape away from his face. Brown curls and a smiling face were revealed. The fauntling beamed at Bilbo and kicked his feet in excitement.

“That’s because your cousin was in the kitchen cooking all evening." Bofur said, his eyes sparkled and Thorin watched in baffled amusement as Bilbo blushed and glared at the dwarf.

"Ignore him." He told Frodo. The young hobbit grinned and Thorin noticed he was missing one of his front teeth. It was adorable He had a feeling the fauntling would like Fili.

"This is Thorin, everyone. We're going to be in the kitchen this evening so please keep your large noses away." He paused and glanced back. "This is Dwalin. He'll probably be hanging in here. Do not embarrass me or your beards will burn." He smiled, set Frodo down and grabbed Thorin's elbow again. He could feel the warmth of the hobbit’s hand seeping through the fabric of his tunic. He was dragged forward through the room and out a door to the right. They went down a short, empty hallway and into a larger room.

The kitchen was brightly lit with creamy yellow walls and plants growing all over the place. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling along with pots. The room was immaculate and didn’t feel like it belonged with the sitting room. There was a large bowl of salad on the counter that made Thorin’s stomach grumble and his heart flutter.

Bilbo always had items he liked ready to sample, and he didn’t judge Thorin for it. No one else knew that he enjoyed vegetables. Bilbo grabbed two plates off the counter and spooned some of it on to the plates without saying anything. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were pink.

“Sorry about them.” Bilbo passed him the plate without quite meeting his gaze. He pulled out a chair from the table and motioned for Thorin to sit in it. He did.

“Thank you for allowing me over.”

“Well… I don’t ever want to make you as uncomfortable as I did yesterday.”

There was no point in avoiding the topic. The atmosphere would be thick and tense until he spoke honestly. If he wanted to pursue Bilbo, and he did, then they needed to start with this understanding. There was not time to beat around the bush.

“What do you know about me?” Bilbo sat in his chair and picked up a fork. He carefully poked a lettuce leaf.

“You are the eldest son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain. You have two siblings. You are one hundred and sixty-two. You don’t care for large crowds. You like vegetables. You don’t lift your feet when you dance. You like mysteries-”

Thorin interrupted him before he could continue. There was a faint smile tugging at his lips. “About my personal life?”

Bilbo froze with the fork a few inches from his mouth. He carefully kept his eyes away from Thorin. He looked stiff. “Well, as far as I can tell, you don’t really have one.”

Thorin nodded his head. “Precisely. I have never courted anyone. I have had dwarves seek my hand for status, of course, but no one has sought me on a more casual level.” The corner of Bilbo’s lip quirked up.

“You haven’t had a fling.” His voice was mirthless. His eyes looked relieved, but Thorin was quite certain he was simply imaging it. He wanted Bilbo to be relieved, and he therefore saw it.

He was quite good at seeing things that were not there.

“I have had one. The week I came of age to be crowned prince. When I turned one hundred and fifty.” Bilbo’s brow furrowed and his eyes shot to the corner. He was trying to remember then. “The dwarf in question was someone I had grown up with. He was a member of nobility, and one of my few friends.”

Bilbo turned his gaze back on Thorin Something flickered in the blue-green eyes. “I had never made a pass at anyone. I kept any romantic interest or attraction I had ever felt secret and locked it away.I am little more than a commodity as far as marriage goes. I will be sold to the highest bidder without my wishes or desires coming into account.”

He had expected this to be harder to say. As was, it just slipped out. The time constraint was a blessing for the first time. He had no time to dawdle so he just spoke.

“That isn’t right.”

“That is royalty. We are born to privilege and have certain expectations we must meet. As the oldest the task of political match falls to me. My siblings were free to find and marry their Sanzeuhs.”

“Their Ones?” Thorin nodded his head.

“It is something I have not minded bearing. I have had no interest in pursuing anyone because of what happened when I came of age.” Thorin dropped his gaze down to the salad. The vegetables bright colors seemed to dim as he spoke. “The dwarf who had been my friend used me to promote himself. He spread vile rumors about me throughout the kingdom and made certain that others were present to see any advances in our relationship. He betrayed me for attention. So that he could be better known.” He set the fork down and looked up to catch Bilbo’s gaze.

“He ruined my reputation in less than a day. I have never sought another since the occurrence. I have seen it as too dangerous. I am in a powerful position, and cannot afford to be frivolous with my heart.”

Bilbo’s hand flew to cover his mouth as a squeak escaped him. His eyes were wide and wet and horrified. “I’m so sorry!” He gasped out. “I-I made you think-I’m so sorry!”

“It was not your intention, men melkûn (my hobbit).” He pierced several leaves on his fork and brought them to his mouth. The lettuce was crisp, clearly fresh. “You have not sought any publicity from my position. You have actually sought to keep me from the public eye.” He speared a few more leaves and a pepper. “It was wrong of me to withdraw for a past pain.”

“It never even crossed my mind. You looked so happy to just be away from the crowd of dwarves when we first met that I didn’t see a reason to put you back in it. That has to be a stifling life.”

“It is all I have ever known.” Bilbo shook his head and his curls bounced around his face. He reached across the table and grasped the hand Thorin had resting on the stone surface. Bilbo’s fingers were warm, a nice contrast to the cold of the stone. He didn’t dwell on the way it made him shiver.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that with us. My friends and I… we would never do that. We’re honestly just a bunch of misfits that share a house and promote crazy. Bofur hates attention seekers because of how they treated Bifur. Ori and Nori are both very uninterested in that as well because they grew up in with a mom that was always being talked about. Gimli’s dad is very well to do, but he’s been disowned. He has no interest of going back.”

Thorin, to his amazement, chuckled. “They seem friendly.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said as he relaxed back in his chair and removed his friend from Thorin’s. He tried not to lament the loss too much. “They are. The friendliest. I told you how I met Bofur. I met Nori that same day. He pick-pocketed my mom and she decked him. Broke his nose.” Bilbo chuckled and his eyes seemed to sparkle. It was utterly mesmerizing. “His younger brother, Ori, apologized for his brothers ‘atrocious manners’ and we just clicked. We bought a place together when I started working in the kitchens. Ori moved in when he came of legal age, as did Gimli. His father didn’t approve of all his life choices. We’re kind of rebellious in that way.” Bilbo winked and Thorin felt himself blush for reasons he could not understand.

“Anyway. Bifur is Bofur’s cousin. He was injured in one of the battles to reclaim Moria… Sorry, what do you lot call it?”

“Khazad-Dûm.”

“Right. He moved in with us after that and takes care of the place… Sort of. He is also a brilliant toy maker.”

“And your cousin?” Thorin had no doubt that the fauntling was the one that braided Bilbo’s hair.

Bilbo’s smile dampened and the sparkle faded away. “An orphan. I brought him to live here so that he would not have to be near my frightful cousin, Lobelia.”

Bilbo straightened back up and seemed to shake the sadness off. “Now, tell me about your day. Anything you want. Or ask me questions. I’ll answer just about anything.”

And, to his own amazement, Thorin found it quite easy to talk.

-[]-[]-[]-

Thorin had never been to a ‘shindig’ as Bilbo had dubbed their post dinner. However, he had a feeling he would be attending several more. He certainly was not against another occurrence of one.

They had seven dwarves, two hobbits, and three cats in the sitting area. Thorin could not decide how everyone had managed to fit, though he suspected magic. Gimli had shown up while they were at dinner and he was near Ori’s age with ginger hair and a scowl.

Thorin was seated on the green sofa with Bilbo, Frodo, Sebastian, and the cat that had been sitting with Ori. His name was Bard. Dwalin was on the red sofa with Ori and Nori, and he had the third cat, Beorn, on his lap. Bofur, Bifur, and Gimli were on the last sofa.

Nori, Bofur, and Gimli had courtship braids in their hair. Bifur had warrior braids, and Ori had braids that described him as a scribe. Bofur had a earring like Bilbo’s in his ear, and Ori had the same sort of ear-cuff.

They were talking. Alot, and loudly. It wasn’t something Thorin had thought he would enjoy. There were several conversations going on that were tangling in the air. The dwarves were jumping from topic to topic, talking over each other and laughing loudly. Drinks had been spilled, snacks tossed, and inventive curse bellowed before the offending dwarf was hit by a tossed sock from Bilbo. Who had a remarkable aim. The blow by sock would inevitably send Frodo off into a fit of giggles that nearly had him roll off the couch. Thorin had caught him three times.

It was chaos.

And far more fun than Thorin had had in a long while. He felt relaxed and welcomed. There was no doubt the dwarves knew just who he was. They still treated him like an equal. They teased him and Bilbo mercilessly and allowed him to tease them in return.

He found himself glancing at the door every few minutes to see if there was anyone there. His father, his guards, reporters… anything. It was weird to be having fun and not be in trouble.

_Feeling is a weakness._

He absently wondered if he would ever stop hearing his father’s voice in his head whenever his emotions rose up. It was getting easier to ignore though. There was still hope.

“And then this _idiot_ takes the gold and the bag up the nearest tree.” Bofur laughed out, his eyes sparkling as he looked at Nori who was nearly as red as his hair. “And the goat, of course, followed him!”

“What happened?” Frodo asked around a yawn. He was nodding off slowly, but was fighting sleep as younglings always do. Thorin scooped him up and deposited him in his lap, thinking of his nephew. The fauntling shuffled until his back was pressed against Thorin’s chest. Thorin wrapped an arm around his chest and smiled softly when Frodo wrapped his small hands around the arm and waited for the answer. His head dipped a little and Thorin’s chest surged with protective warmth. He was very aware of Bilbo watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“The dam-dumb goat followed me up the tree.” Nori said, shaking his head. He laughed and Frodo yawned again.

“Goats can climb?” He murmured and his head dipped again

“That thing got up faster than I did.”

Ori giggled and gave his head a tiny shake. The beads in his hair jingled and Thorin watched as Dwalin’s eyes drifted to them. “He ate the bag, gold, and Nori’s coat.”

Frodo’s head lulled again and didn’t come back up. Thorin turned him so that he was sitting sideways. He tucked the head against his chest and placed his other hand on the hobbit’s feet. Bilbo watched him with a tiny, affectionate, smile that wasn’t aimed at Frodo.

The warmth in his chest purred happily and he allowed himself to scoot closer to Bilbo without worry or fear.

He looked up to see Ori lean over and whisper something in Dwalin’s ear and watched as Dwalin laid his hand, knuckle duster and all, on the young dwarf’s arm with a laugh at whatever was said.

His hand remained on Ori’s arm for another second before it returned to petting the cat. Thorin waited until the dwarf met his gaze before he pointedly raised an eyebrow. Dwalin looked down to where Thorin’s arm was pressed against Bilbo’s.

He dipped his head in succession and did not flush. He could admit defeat when he needed to. He wasn’t about to remove his arm either.


	6. Chapter 6

_Captain Shakespeare: Have no fear, no-one on this vessel will harm you, but there are plenty who would..._  
 _Your emotions give you away, Yvaine. You must learn to control them. You've been glowing more brightly every day and I think you know why._

_Yvaine: Of course I know why I'm glowing. I'm a star! And what the stars do best?_

_Captain Shakespeare: Well, certainly not the waltz._   
_-Stardust_

**-September 18th-**

**-19 days left-**

* * *

 

Dwalin started winking at Thorin. In public places. Even when Bilbo was near and could actually see him do it. He would have thought that Dwalin of all people, would be subtle. Though, that really was a bad assumption because Dwalin was about as subtle as a Troll in a field of daisies.

Thorin had ended the night with asking Bilbo out for a date. An actual date. That he was about to go on. In a few hours.

He hadn’t been on a date. He wasn’t sure that their dinner actually counted as a date. There had been too many other people involved.

He simply had to get to his room and spend the remaining hour and a half before his date collecting himself and deciding on something to wear.

Mahal. He had no idea what to wear.

Ninety minutes. That was all he had.

It was amazing how much more aware of time he had become since his meeting with his father. It was something that was constantly in the back of his thoughts. A worry that never went away. He could feel each passing minute deep in his skin, his heart beating out the rhythm of seconds as each one passed. As the deadline grew nearer.

He had less than three weeks. Tamru would already be heading towards them. The knowledge was like a noose around his neck, and each passing day was another step towards the edge of his cliff. At the end of his countdown, he would jump and strangle. There would be no escape from the permanent destination.

He would be forever bound to a dwarrowdame that was not his Sanzeuh.

Eighty-nine minutes.

Bilbo wanted to meet outside. Thorin had a picnic in mind, if it didn’t snow. The weather had grown cold overnight and the mountain tops where he wanted to spend the evening were always the first to receive snow.

He was going on a date, an actual date, with Bilbo. The mischievous hobbit with eyes of blue-green and red-gold curls… He would probably laugh at least once. Would he smile when Thorin picked him up? He hoped so. Bilbo had an incredible smile-

He was smitten. He hoped, always quietly in the back corner of his mind that he only ever acknowledged late at night in the safety of his room, that Bilbo might be the One. It was a wild hope, and probably vain. Thorin had never seen a dwarf with a Sanzeuh from a different race.

It would be too easy for Bilbo to actually be his Sanzeuh. Too perfect. Bilbo would just have to be a friend. Someone who he would hold onto when Tamru came around. He would have to lock the desire away and never act on it. If the ring didn’t fit, he would have to keep his heart on lock down.

He had a feeling it would be easier to purge his heart of all emotions.

_Think and do not feel._

His father’s voice, so serious and earnest, seemed to mock him.

Still… The quiet voice in the back of his mind refused to stop whispering. There was hope. He would enjoy tonight and see what happened. If things went well he would start approaching Bilbo with the idea of courting. He could then test the ring.

The thought of it fitting made his chest flutter and his lips lift up in a silly grin.

Eighty-eight minutes.

He had seen him yesterday and this morning. He’d gone down to the kitchen on his only break the previous day and ran in to all of Bilbo’s housemates. The kitchen had been extremely crowded and loud and so full of life. Thorin had perched himself on a stool near Bilbo and simply watched.

He’d been drawn into fifteen different conversation topics, and learned several  new things about the dwarves and Bilbo. It seemed overwhelming in hindsight, but he’d enjoyed it. The craziness had forced him to pay attention. It had dragged him out of his usual somber solitude and made him join in.

Eighty-seven minutes.

“Nadad!” Thorin faltered in his steady pace to his room. He felt Dwalin draw nearer to him on instinct before relaxing. Dís and Frerin were in the corridor ahead. Dís leaning against a column and Frerin seated on the base of a statue. Thrain would see red if he was caught.

“Namad, Nadadith.” Dís studied him with a confused expression before pushing off the column and walking up to him.

“You,” Dís said slowly, almost accusingly, “are smiling.”

“Am I?” Frerin hopped down from his perch on top of the statue's pedestal and nodded his head.

“Mahal’s beard! You actually are. Why are you smiling?”

“Would you prefer I were not?” Thorin asked mildly. He had not even realized he was smiling. He tried to bring his lips back under control but found it far more difficult than it usually was.

“No, I’d prefer to know who has made my brother smile.”

“They deserve a medal at the least.” Frerin added. Dís smacked his arm while Dwalin chuckled.

Eighty-four minutes. He was running out of time. He needed to get to his room so he could make certain that he looked as perfect as possible. He had to re-braid his hair and use the scented oil. He’d caught Bilbo staring at his hair the previous evening and he hoped that the hobbit might try and touch it. The thought of those soft fingers in his hair was extremely appealing.

Thorin continued walking, sighing as his siblings fell instep. Dwalin was (thank Mahal) remaining quiet.

“You are grinning though, you’re still grinning. Who has done it?”

Thorin pushed the door to his room open and cringed when he saw that he had left three different outfits on the table.

Eighty minutes.

“And you’re going through your clothes.” Frerin looked like Yuletide had come earlier. He rushed past Dís, Dwalin, and Thorin to get to the bedroom. “There are flowers on the bed!” He called in entirely too excited a voice.

He had not put them away. He’d hoped to give them to Bilbo but had decided against it. He was going to deliver a bundle of peppers instead.

Thorin glared at Dís. “Shouldn’t you be with Fíli?”

“Kolí is with him. They’re having father/son bonding time.” She smirked and stepped closer, hands on her hips. “Now, explain.”

“Dwalin,” the body guard stepped forward with a smirk. “Please make certain that the other guards know not to disturb us this evening?”

“I’ll check in on the other arrangements as well.” He bowed his head politely and then exited the room. Thorin watched him go and swallowed. He closed his eyes, inhaled, and then blew the air out while he turned. He opened his eyes and tried to smile at his sister without looking like a cornered rabbit.

“I am going to be leaving in seventy-seven minutes to spend the evening with a friend.”

“Bilbo,” Dís breathed, her eyes widening. Thorin briefly wondered how she even knew who the hobbit was. “Dwalin told me that-but he never said you were dating!”

“Tonight is the first date.” Mahal’s forge, why had he just said that?

“Frerin!” Dis called in a booming voice that had Thorin flinching in surprise. “Get your slow arse in here!” She turned towards Thorin, her eyes shining and her smile beaming. “Our brother needs help.” She took a step forward and grabbed Thorin’s hands in her own. “He’s going on his first date.”

“This will not be my first-”

“The other one does _not_ count.” Dís said firmly. She tugged him towards the bedroom and he followed her with no idea why he was doing so.

“Right, first things first.” Frerin pulled out a bundle of Thorin’s underthings and tossed them onto the bed. Dís started shuffling through them to Thorin’s immediate and severe horror. “Underwear.”

“What? Dear Mahal, why are you-”

“You cannot go on a date with ugly or worn-out underwear.” Dís stated. Thorin had no control of the red that his cheeks had decided to glow with. What had he done in his life to deserve such embarrassment?

“I will not be showin-”

“Doesn’t matter, brother mine.” Frerin said with a slap to the back, “you have to have nice underwear. Always nice underwear.”

Mahal’s mercy. He wasn’t going to make it to the date. He was very possibly going to die of horrified embarrassment before it.

-[]-[]-[]-

It was surprisingly hard to knock on the door.

He was dressed in a deep red tunic with a leather weskit and black hosen. He had dialed back on the jewelry, even though his siblings had tried to deck him out. He wore the simple mithril crown instead of the far larger, and heavier, gold one. It was made of thin strands of metal that were braided together with three rubies inlaid. It pronounced his royalty but was not so showy that it made it impossible to think of anything else.

He hoped Bilbo would understand that it was a symbol or trust. That he was not afraid to go out with him as a prince. That he trusted the hobbit not to try and ruin his reputation.

He managed to rap on the door and took a tiny step back. He carefully breathed in and out while he waited. He could hear someone running towards the door and it made his heart thump.

The door was tugged open and a happy hobbit was at the door.

“Hey!” Bilbo’s smile was wide enough to crinkle his eyes and make them look brighter. He needed to find a word to describe their color. There was surely some gem in the world that came close. The hobbit tugged the door open a little wider and paused as a high pitched squeal came from inside. He turned his head to see what had caused it and Thorin watched as his apprenticeship braid fell over his shoulder. He wondered what it would feel like to braid the spiraling locks.

He was wearing a jewel bright blue tunic and a simple, grey pair of breeches that he had thrown a brown coat over. His feet were bare as usual.

Bilbo laughed at whatever was happening in the house and Thorin felt a tension stiffen his body. He wanted to lean forward and touch. To grab Bilbo’s hand or stroke his cheek, anything. He had no idea how to do it. Physically, it was simple. What did he do after he touched though? Was there a specific way that was permitted? Would it be welcome?

Was he overthinking it? Was Bilbo even interested in that sort of thing? He never minded when Bofur, Bombur, Ori, Gimli, Frodo, or Nori touched him. He even accepted Bifur’s affection. The other chefs he worked with were always patting his back or brushing his arm. He let the cats crawl all over him and had even accepted the head thump that Dwalin had greeted him with this very morning.

He had a lot of people touch him, actually. Bilbo was clearly not against friendly touch and physical closeness.

“Come on then,” Bilbo said, turning back to look at Thorin with his bright eyes and blinding smile. He slipped out the door and grabbed Thorin’s hand in his own mitten covered one. The tension leaked out of his body. “Let’s go to your mystery destination.” He paused at Thorin’s side and smiled up at him. “Am I dressed warmly enough?”

Thorin nodded his head a little dumbly. He was holding Bilbo’s hand and about to go on a date.

The whisper of hope grew louder.

-[]-[]-[]-

It had snowed. The lookout he had picked to hold their picnic on was covered in a fresh blanket of white snow.

They couldn’t sit and eat on snow. His plans were ruined.

“Oh,” Bilbo breathed by his side. His breath puffed out in a little cloud that melted into the air around him. “It’s lovely!” He beamed up at Thorin before rushing towards the fenced edge and peering over the edge. Thorin watched him for a long moment, a strange tightness in his chest that was hard to breath around. He gripped the railing with mitten covered hands and pushed up so that he could bend over and see what was below them.

Thorin walked towards him, barely aware of the snow crunching under his feet.

“Is this what you wanted? To show me the snow from the top of the mountain?” Bilbo asked craning his head over his shoulder so he could look at Thorin without letting go of the rail. He watched Thorin until he was at the hobbit’s side.

“I actually intended to have a picnic here.” He peered out at the snow covered mountain and felt his lips lift in a small smile. It was a beautiful sight. His mother used to take him and his siblings out to see the first snow. Even if it was the middle of the night. He missed those moments.

Perhaps he would drag Dis and Frerin out later tonight. It would serve them right to lose sleep for the embarrassment they had caused him earlier.

“Well, this isn’t really picnic weather.” Thorin nodded his head in agreement and stepped away from the edge.

“We shall find a secluded corner inside to eat in. Perhaps the garden?” Bilbo nodded his head and Thorin turned around to go inside the kingdom. He heard Bilbo move behind him. He ascended the first step and then froze as he felt something hard, wet, and very cold hit the back of his head. It caught in his hair and fell to the ground in a powdery mass. Thorin turned around slowly, his eyes widening in surprise and his mouth popping open. Bilbo was standing perfectly still and straight. He had his hands clasped behind his back and a small, giddy grin lifting his lips. His eyes were dancing with mirth.

Thorin backed off the step. “You do realize, of course,” he said with a smile that he couldn’t really stop, “that you just declared war?”

The hobbit’s grin grew and spread in a blink, and he let out a light, bright laugh. “I hoped so.” He pulled his hand out to reveal another snowball and it hit Thorin in the chest.

A ferocious snowball battle ensued. When Bilbo attempted to put snow down Thorin’s back under his clothes, the two ended up rolling around on the ground as the dwarf retaliated in kind. Bilbo’s loud laugh echoed through the air and warmed Thorin through his soul. He could easily dominate Bilbo. He was far stronger than the small hobbit, and it would have taken almost no effort to push him over and hold him down. While the idea was appealing, extremely appealing, he didn’t want to. Especially because Bilbo was sitting on him in a desperate bid to even the ‘score.’

It was dusk out, and the sky above them was vivid with colors. Purples, oranges, reds, and blues all mingled together to create incredible hues. Bilbo was straddling Thorin’s hips and the evening sky lit him from behind. His hair seemed to glow a fiery-golden color that made his skin seem warmer. His frozen fingers were attempting to undo the tie to Thorin’s tunic so he could shove a handful of snow down it, but the dwarf couldn’t care or look or even attempt to stop him. Bilbo’s cheeks were flushed and there was a bit of snow melting against the pink skin that had Thorin’s full attention.

He reached up to wipe it away and felt his breath whoosh out as Bilbo met his eyes. Water dripped from his hair and shirt onto Thorin, who was laying in the snow, and it all should have been cold.

Thorin felt like he was melting though. Everything was warm and a little hazy. He felt almost adrift. Like he wasn’t fully secured to the ground he was lying on. “Shall we retire, Master Baggins?”

BIlbo blinked down at him, affection lighting his face and causing his eyes to crinkle. An ache welled up deep in Thorin’s chest and he longed. Mahal, did he long for the beautiful hobbit. “While you’re winning, Sire?” The teasing lilt made the title not seem respectful. More of an endearment between friends.

Friends. He rather disliked the term.

“There is no better time.” His voice came out low and thick. He had to swallow again. Bilbo leaned down closer. He braced himself on his elbows, which he propped on Thorin’s chest. The weight was surprisingly intoxicating. He could escape it easily, but he liked the feeling of being pressed down.

He craved more of it. “You have a wonderful smile.” Bilbo murmured. He trailed the fingers of his left hand along Thorin’s collarbone. Thorin couldn’t decide which he wanted to focus on more. The soft, inviting touch, or the intense gaze Bilbo had locked on him. They were working a strange magic together, stealing his breath and causing his heart to beat far too quickly. He was helpless to do anything but stare back. He had no idea what his expression was doing.

He felt like he was being remade. His heart was pounding in his chest, and each beat seemed to reaffirm that he was here. Bilbo was staring at him with a look in his blue-green eyes that Thorin had never had directed at him. He’d seen his sister share it with Kolí, and his brother share it with Naina. His father had even given it to his mother.

He’d never been on the receiving in of that kind of adoration.

He suddenly wanted… so many things. He wanted to cup Bilbo’s cheeks in his hand and kiss his lips. He wanted to braid the hobbit’s hair and decorate it with beads. He wanted to press Bilbo against a wall and show just how strong he actually was.

The hobbit pushed off his chest and stood up. He dusted his breeches off and smiled shyly at Thorin, who was feeling dizzy and robbed. He pushed himself up slowly, suddenly very aware of how cold and wet the ground was.

Once he was upright he dusted his tunic and trousers off as well as he could. He could hardly go into the kingdom in such a damp, dishevelled state. What had he been thinking?

He clearly hadn’t been.

“Thorin?” Bilbo called his attention away with a soft voice so unlike the usual confidence of his tone.

“Yes?” He lifted his head and found Bilbo right in front of him. He was biting his lower lip uncertainly and staring at the snow covered ground.

Thorin called on the courage he had not found when they were at the door and reached forward. He brushed his fingers along the back of the hobbit’s hand, and Bilbo’s eyes snapped up to meet him.

Thorin rocked back under the unexpected, and perfect weight of Bilbo's mouth on his. His mind was still for an eternity, and then he lost himself as all his senses were flooded with warmth and exquisite bliss. He bent down instinctually as his arms wrapped around Bilbo’s body to hold him close. Bilbo’s hands grabbed hold of his shoulders and used them to haul himself up and closer until their chest were flush together. He pushed his tongue into Thorin’s mouth and explored it with a slow rhythm that had Thorin nearly aching with sudden need.

Mahal… He had never known such bliss existed.

Bilbo’s hands drifted up his neck and into his hair. They dragged through his locks and tilted Thorin’s head precisely where the hobbit wanted it, and he found himself being kissed even harder.

When Bilbo pulled away, Thorin swayed and his chest bumped against the hobbit’s. He stared down at him with hazy eyes and could see nothing but the dark pink color his lips had turned. He half imagined he heard himself whimper but he wasn’t sure. He did move his hands to grab Bilbo’s hips and bring him closer.  

They were still alone. No one was spying on them and there was no one attempting to laugh at the fact that he enjoyed being near the hobbit.

Hope sprung up in his chest, warming his pounding heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have no fear, my dears, Gimli's story will be expanded upon :) Also, the hate for Thrain going on right now is really amusing me. I'm not sure why, it just is :)


	7. Chapter 7

_The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside_   
_Couldn’t keep it in, heaven knows I tried_   
_Don’t let them in, don’t let them see_   
_Be the good girl you always have to be_   
_Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know_   
_Well now they know!_   
_-Let it Go ‘Frozen’_

**-September 18th-**   
**-19 days left-**

* * *

 

Thorin was soaked and there were still bits of snow falling off Bilbo’s curls onto his fingers. The hobbit’s clothes were cold where he was pressed against Thorin’s chest, but it didn’t dampen the warm flush of skin that Thorin could feel. Snow was melting on his eyelashes and Thorin was fairly certain he would be losing feeling in his toes any second now.

It was remarkable how much he simply did not care. Any snow that was on him would melt from how hot his cheeks were anyway.

He had an armful of damp, chilled, smiling hobbit and he did not want to let it go. He could grow quite addicted to the warmth bubbling in his chest, and the euphoria that came from looking at the light in Bilbo’s eyes.

He had been afraid. So very afraid. Afraid that he would be unable to trust, unable to take the small, simple step towards a relationship. After all that had happened… He had thought he would never trust again. He had feared that he would be unable to find his Sanzeuh simply because he could never let himself open up enough to even chance feeling romantic affection for another.

Then Bilbo simply slipped into his life and showed him that it was not a bad thing to laugh. To smile and relax.

To trust.

Bilbo who was smiling at him and leaning forward slowly with a spellbinding sparkle in his eyes. Thorin closed the remaining distance to rejoin their mouths. The first press of lips was more gentle than their previous kiss had been.  He felt a breath of warm air brush across his (horribly) flushed face and the kiss became firmer. Thorin’s eyes slipped closed so he could focus more on what Bilbo felt like.

The hobbit pressed several soft, teasing kisses against his mouth before he started to move his lips. He gently nipped and nuzzled at Thorin’s lips and Thorin responded in kind. As well as he could. He was aware that his skill was probably lacking, and that he was being messier than Bilbo but the hobbit did not seem to mind.

Then Bilbo opened his mouth and captured Thorin’s bottom lip. He tugged and then sucked on the captured lip and Thorin felt a shiver shoot down his spine as his hands flew to cup Bilbo’s face.

Bilbo’s lips spread in a grin.

Thorin pressed closer and trailed his hand along Bilbo’s jaw until he found his ear. He ran his finger along the lobe, brushing against the chain that dangled there before trailing to the curved tip. He tugged on the ear cuff there and then squeezed the very tip. Bilbo moaned and shivered in his hold and desire, hot and intense, bloomed in his stomach.

He had made Bilbo do that. He had caused Bilbo to moan. He wanted to hear more.

The hobbit pulled back. Thorin tried to follow him but he was stopped by a small hand on his chest and a big grin. He frowned and waited to see what was going on. Doubt curled in the back of his mind and the warmth that had been spreading through his chest cooled.

“I would love to continue, but perhaps someplace more private? I don’t want to risk-” Thorin put his finger over the hobbit’s soft lip. The warmth surged back up.

“I would gladly be seen with you, Bilbo.” Thorin murmured he wrapped his other hand around Bilbo’s waist and drew the hobbit closer. “It is growing colder though. Perhaps someplace warmer? I did prepare a dinner.”

“You did?” Bilbo’s smile grew and he stepped closer while tilting his head back so he could better see Thorin. “What?”

“I would not ruin the surprise, Mizim (jewel).” Bilbo’s eyes were almost blinding in their intensity. He must have understood the khuzdul. The hobbit’s arm looped through his and he moved to stand by Thorin’s side.

“Lead on, my prince.”

-[]-[]-[]-

**-September 21st-**   
**-16 days left-**

-[]-[]-[]-

They thawed out and ate on one of the unfinished bridges in the upper levels. They used the blanket he’d packed to eat on as a wrap and they’d both cuddled under it.

Thorin had cuddled with very few people in his life. None since he had come of age. Dwalin, of course, followed at a polite distance and made sure that no one approached them.

It was quite possibly one of the most enjoyable nights Thorin had ever had. He’d never even cared all that much for fish, but having Bilbo feed it to him had made the food the most delectable thing he’d ever had. He’d spoken more about his past, and Bilbo had trusted him with personal information as well.

Everything he learned about the hobbit just made him seem more incredible. He hardly seemed real. Thorin kept waiting for the other shoe to fall.

He hadn’t wanted to leave. He wish he could have stayed awake all night.

He had surprised his siblings with a midnight snowball attack. Dis had won the battle and proceeded to sit on Frerin when he tried to dispute her victory.

He had not laughed so hard in a long while.

Thrain increased his workload again the following morning. He was being groomed to be King and there was no free time to be had. He barely saw Bilbo at lunch and had to stay up late into the night to see him in the evening.

During the days, when the meetings were long and the duties heavy, Bilbo sent him notes. Nori, Bofur, Gimli, Ori, Bifur, and even Dori delivered them. He sent his own in reply and tucked each one into his pocket. Next to the ring.

He couldn’t stop smiling. Each missive made him feel lighter, despite the endless court proceedings. Each time he started to feel tense he simply reached into his pocket and felt the smooth paper. Was that what it was to have a Sanzeuh? To have someone your heart spoke to? He could hardly remember how his father had acted around his mother. There was no example for him to follow in that regard. He only had his overly cautious father.

His father didn’t understand why he allowed himself to feel in regards to Bilbo. Not that he knew exactly who Bilbo was. He only knew that Thorin had found someone he desired. He feared for Thorin’s safety, of course. He had witness Thorin’s heart break when the other had happened. He had seen Thorin struggle to reestablish his reputation. To re earn trust. The people were not easily swayed. Not when there were such juicy rumors with supposed eyewitnesses.

He couldn’t see that Bilbo was entirely different than Golg.

Golg. That was a name he tried never to think of. He hadn’t actually thought the name in nearly a decade. For someone that had been a close friend most of his young life, that was quite strange.

He had fallen for the dwarf quickly. He had gold hair and dark green eyes that matched his strong jaw. His nose had been long and sharp. He’d always been quite a looker and got a lot of attention for it. Dwalin had always teased him for being a dame magnet.

Thorin had become aware that he was attracted to males at a young age. It had seemed only fate that he fell for Golg.

For a wonderful few days, he had thought the dwarf returned his affections. It was only after they kissed that he learned the truth. The vile dwarf had arranged for the kiss-Thorin’s first-to be had on one of the balconies that overlooked the bridges to the mines. One of the busiest spots in the kingdom. He should have seen it coming.

He didn’t. He’d had no idea that the dwarf was pretending. That he only wanted to be able to say he had seduced a prince. That he had only wanted to make a fool of the heir.

That he found the very idea of kissing a male disgusting.

The news that he’d kissed Golg had spread through the kingdom like wildfire. He was accused of doing far more than kissing on the balcony, and by the end of the day he had lost almost all the respect he’d had. Judging looks followed him wherever he went. Thrain had exiled the dwarf for some pretense that Thorin had not looked into.

He’d started to train on the aloofness that Thrain possessed after that. It was easier not to feel or care. Feeling and caring had nearly destroyed his heart and cost him everything. He had thought he would simply have to continue his life alone. That it would be safer.

It had taken years to re-earn the peoples respect afterwards. A king could not rule over a population that did not respect him.

It had all served as a powerful reminder of why he had to be so careful with his heart. It could be given away once, and then he would forever be vulnerable. He could be forever compromised.

But there was Bilbo. Bilbo who had stolen his attention from the minute he appeared. The most unlikely of creatures.

Thorin could have never anticipated him.

Bilbo was everything Thorin wasn’t. He was loud and bright and so happy it was infectious. He made friends easily and he smiled often. He was relaxed and easy to be around.

He was sunlight where Thorin was only ever shadow. He was vocal, open with affections -demonstrative even. Bilbo was a talkative whirlwind of color and cheer, a tiny, chattering explosion of laughter and opinions. He was large emotions and words where Thorin was long looks and silence.

And he brought Thorin along with him. He poked and prodded him into conversations but never made him feel like he was being judged. He didn’t push Thorin into the public. In fact, he seemed to most enjoy making Thorin feel like an average dwarf. Someone without duties.

Someone that didn’t have to worry about the entire kingdom. Or worry about being above suspicion and beyond simple dwarvish needs.

Bilbo saw him. He saw Thorin through everything else. He saw the dwarf behind the stoic walls and regalia and brought him out to the sunshine and warmth.

And he had only known him for thirteen days!

Thorin longed for the meetings to end so that he could see Bilbo again. He wished to leave his father’s warry presence and go to the kitchen where there would be food and laughter. Where there was teasing but not genuine judgement.

He stroked the notes again and smiled.

-[]-[]-[]-

Thorin was exhausted in a bone deep way that was far more mental than physical. The court had dragged on until dinner, and then his father had ordered him to a private meeting immediately after. He’d been berated for letting his mind wander and for letting his emotions show. He was under review as of today.

Review meant that his every step was watched, that his every decision was questioned. It meant losing what little freedom he had. His knights would even be bribed into telling what he said and did during practice. His father intended to find out who had Thorin’s eye, and would not take ‘wait’ as an answer.

It felt like betrayal.

And it was wrong, so very wrong. He should be earning more freedoms. He should be granted more lenience to test out his skills as a ruler. Instead he was being pulled in. Essentially collared and leashed. It made him irate because there was nothing he could do. He had to follow his father’s lead. He had to obey his Adad and King. If he could not follow Thrain, then why would anyone else?

He would not have complained a month ago. Now he had tasted freedom and he did not want to give it up. He knew what could be.

Thorin had left the King’s hall a tense, angry mess. He walked stiffly, the rage bubbling up in his stomach till he was well away from the other dwarves and his father.

He then punched the nearest column and shouted at the air. Stupidly. He glared at his now broken skin and bleeding knuckles. It did nothing to make him feel better and did not change the fact that he could not live as freely as the dwarves Bilbo boarded with.

Dwalin didn’t say anything. Thorin was grateful for the silence and support. He shook his hand out and continued to his room without stopping again. His hand stung and his head hurt. His heart was numb. Just an object keeping him alive in the constraints of royal life. The misery of eternally being in the public eye and under question. He always had to think of appearances.

Dwalin stepped in front of him and tugged the doors to his room open. He pushed Thorin inside and locked the doors behind him. He was seconds from growling at his bodyguard but the noise changed from a warning sound to an almost whimper as he took in his room.

Bilbo was standing in the center of his room clothed in fur. He had a basket of berries on the table and several blankets piled up in the chair.

Thorin had no idea what he was planning, or why he was in Thorin’s chambers, but he had never been happier to see him.

“Thorin,” the hobbit greeted with a broad smile and a slight bounce. Thorin wasted no time in crossing the room, wrapping his warm mass in a tight hug, and kissing the soft lips. He inhaled Bilbo’s scent and let his eyes slip close as Bilbo’s smaller arms wrapped around him and he returned the heated kiss. It was several long minutes later before they broke apart. Thorin kept Bilbo wrapped up close.

Bilbo looked excellent in fur. He was wearing a worn, leather weskit trimmed in fur over a blue tunic and it was wonderfully soft. Thorin had trouble stopping himself from trailing his fingers along it. He wanted to wrap his arms tighter around the hobbit and rub his cheek on the soft shoulder.

“Bilbo, mizim, I did not expect to see you. This is a most welcome surprise.”

“Well, I figured you could probably use a snack and cuddle.” He pulled away, his eyes bright and took a step back. “Go on and take off all that regalia while I set up the snack. I know that it’s not comfortable to wear, no matter how much you lot like them. Tell me about your day.” He gave Thorin a tiny push and he went with a near stumble. He didn’t want to leave Bilbo but he could return sooner if he hurried. “What were you in court so long for?”

“Elves. The wood-elves want to start a new trade agreement. It offers us very little but they refuse to see that.” Thorin piled his cuffs, necklaces, rings, pins, and crown into a box to sort and put up properly later when there wasn’t a soft hobbit waiting to be cuddled. Something Thorin would not have thought he would find so enjoyable.

“I’m sorry, was it terribly dull?” Thorin untied his cape and draped it over a chair before bending down to unfasten his boots.

“Tremendously. I have decided I don’t care for elves. They are capable of saying ‘yes’ and ‘no’ at the same time with a lot of unneeded flowery language.” He slipped out of his heavy boots and unfastened his sword. He set it beside the chair with his cape and swallowed. He felt oddly nervous and fluttery. He took a breath and tried not to look flustered as he turned to face Bilbo. The hobbit was standing with his back to the fire smiling. It was a small quirk of his lips, a small, knowing thing. Like he had a secret.

“You haven’t met Gimli’s intended, have you?” He’d set the basket on the floor and arranged the blankets in a nest-like shape on the fur in front of the fire.

“Gimli? No.” Bilbo huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh and held his hands out, palm up. Thorin crossed the floor and took them. Bilbo squeezed his hands before gracefully sinking to the carpeted floor. He tugged Thorin down with him. He had not sat on the floor, in front of a fire since he was a dwarfling.

“Then you should. He’ll change your opinion on a lot of things.” Bilbo tugged Thorin’s arm around so that it was draped over his shoulder and he tucked himself into Thorin’s side.“They met and were betrothed three days later. Apparently it was a rather whirlwind romance” His breath blew across Thorin’s chest and he almost shivered imagining what it would feel like without the tunic in the way. “He’s the reason Gimli lives with us. Gloin, Gimli’s father, couldn’t give his blessing for the match.”

“Why not?” Bilbo shrugged.

“Gloin’s father, Groin, disapproved of the match.”

“And he left? For the elf?” Bilbo nodded his head and pressed his cheek against Thorin’s chest. He pressed a kiss to the spot right over his heart. Thorin tried not to melt.

“Yes. Legolas is Gimli’s Sanzeuh. He said he’d wander the wild with nothing if it meant he could keep Legolas. He had to forsake all of his birth rights.”

“Indeed. It isn’t allowed for one of the line of Durin to marry without their parents consent. Politics come into play again.”

“That was the problem. Gimli didn’t want to split the family apart over the decision so he disinherited himself. He lives with us now while they wait for the elvish courting rituals to finish. Because elves take forever to do anything. Legolas’ dad can’t disown him even though he disapproves of the match as well. Legolas is his only son and is heir to the throne.”

“Legolas Greenleaf? That is the Legolas you are talking about?” Bilbo nodded his head.

Thorin sighed and it felt like the air came from deep in his very soul. He was suddenly very weary. “Families should never make love so complicated.”

“Sometimes they just want to protect.”

“By manipulation?”

“I’m not saying it’s right.” Bilbo trailed his fingers along Thorin’s leg, tracing the embroidered pattern. “Just that they don’t always mean ill. Love comes in a lot of shapes and forms. Not all of them are pretty.”

“You are kinder than I, Mizim.” Bilbo pressed back in his arms and tilted his head up so he could look in Thorin’s eyes. He still hadn’t found a word for the color.

“I just bet on love. My mother always told me to keep loving. Even when I didn’t think I could, I just had to dig a little deeper. She was very believing that love always got the victories.”

Thorin clamped his mouth shut. He wanted to ask how a woman could ‘bet on love’ when her own spouse had cheated on her. How had she ever trusted again? Surely she could see that love usually just left one broken.

“I believe her too. She was never a bitter person despite what love had handed her. She was always the first to smile and always had the loudest laugh. She always encouraged me to follow my heart and feet. She said they’d usually lead to the same thing.”

“My mother never spoke of love… She simply acted on it. She was always available in the night for anything that would frighten us. She knew what my favorite vegetables were and how to make me sit still long enough to have my hair braided. She made terrible woes seem unimportant.”

“I think our mothers would have gotten along.” Bilbo trailed his thumb along the back of Thorin’s hand in rhythmic strokes. “I know my mother would have liked you. She’d have had a grand time making you laugh.” Bilbo shook his head and peered back up at Thorin. “Would you listen to us? We’ve gotten sad. I brought berries and came for a cuddle. There is no reason to be thinking about such sad things. Come on, I’ve got fresh cream and we’ll want to finish it before it gets warm.” He grabbed Thorin’s other hand and tugged it around before his entire body went rigid.

“Thorin?” He turned the hand over slowly and Thorin felt as if every nerve in his body simultaneously froze and burned. He shivered at the soft brush of Bilbo’s fingers, but the hobbit didn’t notice. He was far too absorbed in the grazes and dried blood on Thorin’s knuckles. “What happened?” He rubbed them slowly, clearing away the blood and soothing the sore skin. It sent tingles up his arm, into his chest, and through the rest of his body. He wanted so very badly to reach out and touch, to tug Bilbo nearer and…

“I hit a column.”

Bilbo’s gaze shot up to meet his and flickered with something. “Why?”

“Because it was there and nothing else could be hit.”

Bilbo continued to rub softly at the injured knuckles. “What are you not telling me?”

Thorin sighed, another bone deep, weary thing, and let his body sag. He let go of the perfect posture and he half-imagined that his spine actually cracked at the relieved pressure. Bilbo kept rubbing the knuckles and rested his other hand on Thorin’s thigh. The longing grew sharper. “My father held a private meeting with me after the council. I am under review.”

“Wait, like you’re being checked up on?”

“Precisely. My every move will be monitored and examined. You should prepare yourself, Mizim. He will know that I am pursuing you by tomorrow morning.”

“Will he ask you to stop?” Bilbo kept his gaze on Thorin’s hand and there was a careful quality to his voice that Thorin did not care for.

“No. I am permitted to have this freedom.” Bilbo nodded and released Thorin’s hand. He tipped his head up and looked at Thorin. A soft, affectionate smile lifted his lips.

“Then I’ll be fine. I’m used to being the oddity. Dwarves have always stared at me. That won’t be unusual. I’ll alert the others to be cautious.”

“You would do this? Enter the public eye? They are all seeing and most unforgiving.”

Bilbo’s smile grew into a full grin. He laid his hand on Thorin’s neck and trailed three fingers down his clavicle until he was resting in the hollow between clavicles. “I think you should be more worried, Sire. I’m a bit mad.”

Thorin closed his eyes and breathed in-everything, warm skin, berries, honey, woodsmoke, and the daisies braided in Bilbo’s hair. He leaned into the hobbit’s soft touch and let his ministrations relax him.

Tomorrow things would change. Tomorrow it would be revealed that he was courting this tiny, energetic, light, bubbling bundle of laughter. Tomorrow his father would begin to follow his every step and he would watch as those he had counted as friend betrayed his confidence to his father.

Tomorrow he would go to another ball to find his ‘Sanzeuh.’ He would lose another day before Tumra’s arrival and his upcoming nuptials.

Tomorrow he would once again battle the fear of trying the ring on Bilbo. Tomorrow he would decide not to try it to enjoy another day with Bilbo. Another day without the terrible possibility that the ring didn’t fit.

Tomorrow he would pick back up the stress of his life. But tonight he would close his eyes and stay in the moment. Stay with Bilbo and pretend that none of it existed. That it was just Thorin and Bilbo. Two average people that had found each other in the wide world and were making their way through it without any complications.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a bit of an explanation of Gimli/Legolas and Gloin. Let me know of any questions :)


	8. Chapter 8

_You're on your own, sir! This can only end in tears!_  
 _-Bartok 'Anastasia'_

**-September 22-**   
**-15 days left-**

* * *

 

It was the third of his five balls. Guards were everywhere and they watched him with an intensity that would have enraged him at any other time.

Oddly, it did not bother him. The entire room of dwarves knew who he was despite the costume (an eagle this time. He needed to ask why Dís was so fond of dressing him as winged things.) So everyone was looking. He hardly noticed their gazes. He’d had a lifetime of being stared at.

So he spent the evening the way he had always wanted to. He walked in with Frerin, Dís, Naina, and Koli. He laughed with his siblings and their spouses, and he ate the horderves that he wanted (the proper way of course) He greeted Bofur, Bifur, Nori, Glóin, and Ori (who Dwalin was watching in a very not subtle way.)

He danced with his sister, brother, and Balin. He shared a drink with Dwalin and teased him for the way his eyes drifted back to the scribe.

Thorin did not even bother attempting to dance with anyone else other than that. Once he had taken his family and tutor around the ballroom floor he spent the remainder of the evening in Bilbo’s arms, and with Bilbo in his arms. He let the hobbit dance how he wanted, and he joined in with the twirls. He couldn’t leap or kick as Bilbo did. His boots really were impossible to dance with.

It was fun. It felt good. He was breaking the rules, blatantly and horribly, and it felt so good. It felt freeing. He didn’t care.

He’d tried his hardest to be proper. To follow the rules and make his father proud and it had failed dismally. He’d watched as each of his knights, dwarves he had considered friends, went to his father to make reports on his behaviour. He’d been followed all day by dwarves who were itching for rumors to spread. His father’s disapproving and disappointed gaze had not left him.

He’d tried and failed. There was no point in trying anymore. He didn’t want to. He had spent the night in Bilbo’s unjudging arms and had decided that he would give Bilbo’s philosophy a try. He would laugh loudly and talk to who he wanted.

The other hadn’t worked. If he was going to be in trouble, he might as well have done something to be in trouble for.

He was already under review. It was not like he could make his father any more disappointed. He had fifteen days before Tumra arrived and his deadline was up. Fifteen days to pursue Bilbo and pray to Mahal that the hobbit was his one.

It was freeing, the not caring. He was able to breathe. He would probably be given reasons to regret it in the week to come, but he would enjoy it for all it was worth. If his knights were going to talk, they were going to have something to talk about.

-[]-[]-[]-

 **-September 24th-**   
**-13 days left-**

-[]-[]-[]-

Thorin could not get past how natural it felt to have Bilbo in his room. His room was always his sanctuary. It was the one place that was his and his alone. He could do whatever he wanted to it, and no one but his family and closest friends were allowed in it.

It was the one place he could always be free. He could do, say, be, and wear whatever he wanted. It was the one place he could go and be judge and observation free.

Golg had never been allowed into his room.

He liked Bilbo in his room.

He would find himself watching Bilbo talk and listening to his voice without really caring what they talked about. As long as Bilbo talked he was satisfied. The days were long and allowed for very little actual face to face time unless they stayed up late. (Which Thorin did.) He could pull of breakfast or lunch, and always the evenings. (Even if it was painfully late.) They continued with the messages during the days. Thorin had an entire box full of them now. (It was hidden under the table by his bed and he hoped no one ever found it.)

Currently though, he was fine with the lack of talking. He could go on without talking for quite a long while quite happily.

He was laying on his back on his bed. The same bed he had since he was a child. A bed he’d never really felt attached to. It was just an object that he slept on. Now though he found himself extremely grateful to it. He wanted to write a sonnet to it and its perfect timing.

Bilbo was on top of him. He had his legs thrown over Thorin’s waist and was hovering over him. His shirt had come unbuttoned at some point and Thorin’s shirt was Mahal only knew where. The hobbit was sucking the skin beneath his ear and grazing his lips along the bottom of the lobe. He caught his teeth on the hoop that Thorin was wearing and tugged, and Thorin very nearly bellowed.

He slipped his hands, which had been doing nothing but clutching at the blanket, up to Bilbo’s back. He slid them down, relishing the muscles he could feel flexing under his hands, and cupped the hobbit’s luscious derriere. Bilbo made a very happy noise in the back of his throat and pushed back into Thorin’s hands. Bilbo’s hands ran down Thorin’s chest, his nails scratching the skin and grabbing his chest hair. He tilted his head up so his lips were right next to Thorin’s ear and he started to murmur.

In _khuzdul_. Thorin had no control over the sound that broke from his lips, and he would be ashamed about it later.

Right now he didn’t care. He moved one of his hands to Bilbo’s face and cupped his cheek. He tilted his own head and brought their lips together for a heated kiss. Thorin’s skill had vastly improved under Bilbo’s teaching. And he very much did not care to know why Bilbo was good. He was simply happy to practice with him.

“Told you we should have knocked.”

“And _I_ told _you_ that we would have a lot more fun if we just walked in.”

Bilbo sprang up instantly and twisted his torso around with wide, frantic eyes. Thorin pushed himself up on his elbows to glare. It was not physically possible to put the amount of anger and annoyance he was feeling in his expression, and the grin on his siblings faces made it quite clear that they weren’t even slightly sorry.

“What,” he tried to growl but his voice was far too hoarse to be intimidating, “are you doing here?” Bilbo, thank Mahal, was still perched on his lap. He’d been terrified for a moment that the hobbit was going to bolt.

He was buttoning his shirt back up. Thorin hardened his glare.

“We,” Dís said with a congenial smile that Thorin was not buying for a moment, “came by to say hi and escort you to dinner.”

“O-okay,” Bilbo stuttered. His cheeks and the tips of his ears turned red. He scooted back and swung his leg over Thorin so that he was sitting in the dwarf’s lap instead of straddling him. Thorin sat up fully and wrapped one careful arm around the hobbit’s lap. Bilbo pressed back against his chest and smiled. “I’m Bilbo then. Bilbo Baggins.”

“Not bad, brother.” Frerin gave his head an approving nod and Dís shook her head. She crossed the floor in a few steps and offered a hand to Bilbo.

“I’m Dís, Thorin’s sister. That is Frerin. It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry my brother has been so rude not to introduce us sooner.”

Bilbo accepted the hand and gave it a firm shake. Dís would be pleased. She hated when others gave her limp handshakes because she was a pregnant female. “He doesn’t even know how to properly dance so he can hardly be expected to know about introductions.” Bilbo smiled and if it hadn’t been so bright, and he still hadn’t been delightfully warm in Thorin’s lap, he would have glared for that.

“And you must be Frerin?” The dwarf crossed the room to stand at Dís side and accepted a handshake from Bilbo. A strange sense of worry fluttered in Thorin’s stomach. Frerin was far more attractive than he-

No. Bilbo liked _him_. He was surrounded by other dwarves. If he wanted someone else, he could have them. He clearly found Thorin handsome. He had nothing to worry about. Nothing to be possessive about.

Other than time.

Bilbo’s free hand slipped down and clasped his. He squeezed it and Thorin’s heart hammered in his chest. Emotions flurried around his mind and he felt his face slip into a neutral mask as he sought to calm them.

“I didn’t know it was so late. I’m afraid I’ll have to go now. I have to pick my cousin up and make sure he has dinner. And that he hasn’t killed the cats.” Bilbo slipped off Thorin’s lap, still holding his hand. He gave another blinding smile and squeezed Thorin’s hand. He turned to face him and released his hand. “I’ll see you this evening, men uzbad. (my lord)” He pressed a quick kiss to Thorin’s lips and stepped away. Thorin stood up swiftly and took his hand back.

“I will walk you to the door, Mizim.” He glared at his siblings, warning them to stay in the bedroom and not follow him.

“That will be nice.” They walked slowly without actually saying anything until they reached the door. He opened it slowly and Bilbo smiled up at him.

“Tonight?”

“Yes. As soon as you can be spared.” Bilbo’s smile grew larger and toothy, and his eyes crinkled. Thorin longed to drag him back to the bedroom and continue where they had been so rudely forced to stop.

Bilbo grabbed his face with one hand and stood up on tip-toes to press a kiss to his lips. He stepped back and gave his beard an affectionate little tug. Thorin _hurt_.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t find anything to say. He had no way of describing what he was feeling. The longing in his chest that was painful and the wanting to just hold the hobbit (his hobbit) for the rest of time.

Bilbo walked away with a final wink. His hips swayed as he went and his curls bounced. The pain in Thorin’s chest grew louder, more insistent with each step away Bilbo took, but he still said nothing. He didn’t know how.

One day Thorin would find the right words. He had a feeling they’d be simple.

“Why,” Dis asked as he shut the door, “was he not wearing your ring?” Thorin let his hand rest against the door for a long moment, fighting the impulse to chase after Bilbo.

“Because I have not yet tried it on him.”

“Why ever not?”

“Isn’t obvious?” He growled and turned. Dis and Frerin were both standing a few feet away from him looking cautious and confused. Anger surged through his veins at how unfair it was. Their wedding/betrothal bands shined in the fire light and it made him so _furious_. They had it all. Their sanzeuhs and happiness. They didn’t have a time limit or a magic ring that could ruin everything.

They didn’t have an arranged marriage strangling them like a noose around the neck. They had spouses they loved. That they were able to be attracted to. “I am a coward. If I try the ring on Bilbo it will not fit him, and I will be alone. I will lose _everything_.”

He pushed past them and into his room. He slammed the door before they could say anything and pressed his back against it. He sank to the floor, feeling utterly empty and drew his knees up. He wrapped his arms around them and buried his face in them. He was terrified. So terrified. He was going to lose everything.

He would lose Bilbo and be forced back into the solitude he’d been living in a mere month ago. There would be no more bright smiles and giddy laughs. No more long kisses and soft fingers in his hair. No more shindigs full of tangled conversations and loud laughter. There would just be Tumra, and a ring with no one to ever wear it.

Because Thorin didn’t get happiness. He couldn’t risk the little he had found on a the chance that Bilbo would fit the ring. He couldn’t let the hobbit go.

And he was going to be late for dinner.

-[]-[]-[]-

- **September 26th-**  
 **-11 days left-**

-[]-[]-[]-

He avoided Dis and Frerin as well as he could over the next days. He managed the day after his unplanned outburst, but Frerin cornered him the next afternoon.

His brother could be unbelievably stubborn. He had Balin ask Thorin to attend a ‘lesson’ and then he found himself locked in a room alone with his brother.

“We are going to talk, brother mine.” Frerin sat down at the stone table in the lecture room and motioned for Thorin to sit in the other. His courtship braid was draped over his shoulder and the sight of the jingling beads made a sour taste rise up in his throat. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall.

“There is nothing to talk about.” Frerin’s brow furrowed in a scowl and he pushed the chair across from him out with his foot.

“I won’t let you out until you sit.”

“I do not know why you think you can keep me.” Frerin shoved his chair back and stood up. He crossed his arms over his chest and walked around the table until he was in front of Thorin.

“Fine. We’ll stand. Why Bilbo?”

Thorin tightened his arms around his chest and stood taller. He kept his face neutral. He would _not_ have this conversation. His brother may have found someone to love, but he would not understand. He was different in every way. He liked females, he was not the heir to the throne, and he was not expected to marry for politics to a dwarf he had never met. His future was free and unrestrained.

“Why Bilbo and no one else? I have never seen you flirt with another soul. Even with the shekal (coward) you were always flirted with. Yet you flirt with Bilbo. Openly. He even makes you _smile_. Why him?”

Thorin regarded his brother and weighed his chances of leaving the room without speaking. They were not very good. “Why not?”

“A hobbit, not unusually intelligent, attractive, or outstanding in any real way. He’s thoroughly ordinary.”

“To an unlearned observer.” Thorin growled out before he could stop himself. He knew Frerin was baiting him but hearing him belittle Bilbo made a fierce fire burn in his chest. Bilbo was so much more than he knew. He was so much more than any of them could see. He was everything.

“Then I would have you teach me, brother.” Frerin leaned against the table and kept his arms crossed over his chest. He tilted his head inquisitively and his green eyes seemed more innocent than Thorin had ever seen.

He remained silent. At the end of it all, Frerin would keep Naina while Thorin was left with a wife he could not love and more duties.

At the end, it wouldn’t matter if he had talked or not.

Frerin sighed and shook his head. “It isn’t easy, I understand. It’s terrifying, actually. Before Naina I didn’t understand. I don’t think any dwarf really does. I mean, why devote your life to one dwarf when there are hundreds to be had? What makes one so special that you would never look elsewhere? That you would forsake your craft, your very home to be near them? Why allow one dwarf the power to determine the entirety of your romantic future? Why give anyone so much power that if they rejected you, you would never seek anyone else?”

Frerin caught his gaze and Thorin felt a strange, longing tug in his chest as he exhaled. Frerin got it. He _understood_. In this, at least, he could understand Thorin. His green eyes were heavy with knowledge and pain, and fear. “Because there can be no one else. The minute Naina smiled at me I began to understand. I felt it deep in my chest. I would have her and no other. No other would matter if they weren’t her.”

Frerin straightened up and dropped his arms so that his palms were resting on the table. “So tell me, brother? What makes the hobbit so wonderful that he should have _your_ attention? Because frankly? I might understand it.”

Thorin’s shoulders sagged and he let out a breath. The words were escaping him. He knew Frerin wished only to help him, and he apparently did understand. He hadn’t understood why his loud, boisterous brother had fallen for Naina. The dwarrowdame was reserved and solemn. She was well learned and enjoyed nothing more in life than reading.

But if she was like Bilbo...

“How do you describe Naina’s pull? Hmm? Bilbo is brilliant, loyal, clever… He makes me laugh and I can talk to him. I feel vibrant when I’m around him.  And he cares for me. I was so lonely before I met him, and I did not even realize it. I never realize it until he is no longer by my side.”

“And you only feel truly whole when they’re by your side. You feel as if you’re outside of time when they’re looking at your eyes.”

Frerin held his gaze and Thorin could not help the slight quirk of his lips. It was true. “He has no idea what he has done to me.” Thorin mumbled, dropping his gaze as his heart thumped in his chest.

“So, if you feel for him what I feel for Naina, why do you continue to deny yourself the happiness you might have?” Thorin turned his head and glared at the floor.

“As I told you, nadad. I will not risk him.”

“You’re risking him by not doing anything. It took a month for me to gather the courage to ask Naina to be mine after I had already courted her for half a year. I didn’t know it at the time, but she was being pursued by two other dwarves. I nearly lost her because I was too frightened to lose her. I nearly lost my heart because I did not want to face the possibility of rejection. Do not do the same, Thorin.”

Frerin pushed off the table and went to the door. He unlocked it with a key and rested his hand on the knob. “Regardless of what you believe, brother, there is a great deal to hope for.”

He walked out of the room and left Thorin alone with his pounding heart and racing thoughts.

-[]-[]-[]-

 **-September 28th-**   
**-9 days left-**

-[]-[]-[]-

Thorin quietly walked down the hall utterly fuming. Again. The fuming wasn’t surprising, neither was the reason.

What was surprising was that he was alone.

Dwalin was in the throne room. Speaking with his father. The dwarf had to talk with his father, he had literally been ordered to do so.

Thorin had known that he had acted out at the ball. He had laughed and danced with his friends. He had smiled and not spent the night talking to others. He had been seen on the lower levels _five_ _times_. Which shocked both Thrain and Thorin. Thrain  because Thorin had been to the lower levels and that was a position he had clearly not thought Thorin would sink to.

Thorin couldn’t believe he’d only been seen five times. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d been to the lower levels.

What’s worse, Frerin and Dís had known that he was seeing someone on the lower levels. A peasant more or less.

He was now drilling everyone for information on who the peasant was. Frerin and Dís had feigned a lack of memory and conveniently forgot the hobbit’s name. Dwalin was now meeting with the king.

He’d have to tell the truth. Thorin had no idea what his father would do, and he was terrified. He didn’t want to lose Bilbo. He didn’t want to lose the chance at his Sanzeuh.

He wanted to try the ring on Bilbo’s finger. He just wasn’t certain how. He didn’t want to scare Bilbo away. They’d only known each other for about twenty days.

Which was very weird to think about. It felt like he’d known Bilbo forever.

He’d been right that first night. Hope was nothing more than a cruel lie. It taunted him with the possibility of a Sanzeuh and happiness. Now it was trying to crush him.

Thorin would not go for it. Not now. Never again. He would not be controlled by fear.

He stopped in the middle of the hall and fisted his hands. He would not retreat to his room like a chastised dog because he was scared the ring wouldn't fit and he would no longer be allowed to be with Bilbo. He was going to find Bilbo. He would find his hobbit and try the ring on his finger. He would prove to his father that he had found his Sanzeuh and would marry him.

He turned on his heel and started back down the path he had just come from. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the other figure approach. He did not notice them until something sharp stuck in his neck. He lashed out with his right arm and hit something solid, but it was too late. Whatever had pierced him worked swiftly. He sunk to the floor and fell forward. Frightening darkness engulfed him and he lost all conscious thought.

-[]-[]-[]-

“Thorin? Thorin!”

A dwarf and elf were looking down at him. The dwarf had a hand on his shoulder and was trying to shake him awake. He recognized the face but couldn’t pull a name out of his dizzy head. He felt like something had sat on him. Or a stampede of horses had run over him. Everything ached and his head felt like it was trying to kill him.

“He’s awake,” the dwarf glanced up at the blond elf before returning his gaze to Thorin. “What happened, Sire? Are you hurt?”

“Yes.” Thorin blinked and tried to sit up but found it impossible. He sank back into the ginger dwarf’s hold. “I was attacked. I did not see who…” he trailed off and closed his eyes. He was going to be sick.

“Gimli, we should take him to Bilbo.”

Gimli, that was why he recognized the dwarf. He opened his eyes and squinted at the ginger dwarf again. His vision was swimming and it was impossible to focus on anything. The elf had to be Legolas then. Bilbo had said he was blond and that he was Gimli’s Sanzeuh...

Bilbo… He wanted to see Bilbo.

“Majesty!” Shouts rang down the hall and Thorin’s body tensed as his head exploded in pain. He clenched his eyes shut and grit his teeth together. Gimli lifted him up and held him still.

“Who are they?” he hissed at Legolas.

“I do not know. I don’t recognize them or their clothes.”

“Unhand the prince!” Two dwarves stopped by their side with bull spears. They pointed them down at Gimli as Legolas slowly stood to his feet.

“Peace.” Thorin ordered weakly. He sounded drunk.

“Release him or we will arrest you!” The dwarves completely ignored Thorin and brandished the spear more pointedly at Gimli.

“I will not be taken by you or anyone else until I know the lad is safe.” Gimli growled. He clutched Thorin tighter and Thorin fisted his hand in the fabric at Gimli’s knee to keep from toppling over. He felt horrible. It was all he could do not to vomit.

“We will not hesitate to kill you. Get away from the prin-”

The elf surged forward whipping a blade from a sheath strapped on his back and bringing it up to the neck of the dwarf who was threatening Gimli with one fluid movement. “You would be dead before you blow fell.” He pointed another blade at the other dwarf with a glare that was chilling in how unyielding it was. “Step any closer and I will strike. I do not know who either of you are.”

“We’re his guard-”

“Do not lie to me.” Legolas’ eyes flashed and he stood taller. “I am a prince of the woodland realm. I know what Erebor’s guards and soldiers dress like. You are not in their attire.”

Thorin didn’t recognize the dwarves either, but he was fairly certain that Legolas didn’t actually have two heads, so he couldn’t exactly trust his vision. “Where is Dwalin?” Gimli asked, looking unsurprised by Legolas’ outburst. Thorin blinked. It helped to straighten his vision a little but everything was hurting worse.

“Thrain…” He swallowed thickly and drowned out whatever was happening with Legolas and the dwarf guards who were apparently ‘off duty’ so that he could speak. “He is with my father.”

“Can you walk, majesty?”

Thorin nodded. The ‘guards’ were backing up, convinced or frightened by whatever Legolas had said. Gimli assisted him up and then stepped back to allow him the dignity of standing on his own. He looked at the dwarves who were examining him with worried eyes. “Go to the throne room and find my personal guard. Alert him to what has happened. He will know where to find me.”

They glanced at each other and Thorin’s patience snapped. “Go!” He barked, “Do not think to question me!” They backed up two steps, turned, and ran back down the hall they had come. Thorin swayed and widened his stance. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth as the bout of dizziness surged again.

“Majesty? You are bleeding. We need to get you out of the hall.” Thorin nodded his head in acknowledgment and brushed his tunic down. His hands went to his throat and pocket out of habit. The key to the treasure vaults and his room were still around his neck and-

Thorin was fairly certain the entire world was tilting as his hand dropped into his pocket. It was getting hard to stand upright and not because his head was pounding from whatever he’d been stuck with.

Someone had taken the ring.


	9. Chapter 9

_Never let the fear of striking out, keep you from playing the game._   
_-Cinderella Story_

 **-September 29th-**   
**-8 days left-**

* * *

 

Thorin’s head felt like it had been caught under a smiths hammer.  It ached and pounded and his hair was even sore.

Actually, someone was tugging his hair.

What?

Thorin forced his eyes open, it took several blinks to make them fully open, and tried to decipher what he saw. Stone ceilings etched with geometric designs…

His ceiling. He was in his room.

There was another slight tug on his hair. Thorin tilted his head, which was decidedly more difficult than it should have been, and looked to see what was going on. Blue-green eyes blinked down at him from under gingery-gold curls. The eyes were worried and it made something deep in Thorin unhappy to see them that way. He blinked and tried to smile. He wasn’t certain he succeeded.

“Thorin? Can you hear me?”

“Bilbo?” He was hardly aware of speaking the word. His voice came out as a croaking sound and it hurt his ears to even hear. He sounded _terrible_. Mahal’s braids, what was wrong with him?

“Oh, praise Yavanna, you’re awake.” There was another tug to his hair and Thorin realized that Bilbo had tangled his fingers in the locks. He smiled and tried to determine just where his hand was and how much control over it he had. He wanted to touch the hobbit. It took several long moments but he managed to raise his hand and clumsily cup Bilbo’s damp cheek.

“You’re crying, Mizim. What happened?” His hand fell back to the bed with a thud and he just let it lie there. He wasn’t certain where his feet even were at the moment. His entire body was either hurting or felt oddly floaty.

“You were attacked.” Bilbo said at the same time another, much gruffer voice said “you were an idiot.”

“Dwalin?” He heard a chair scrape against the floor and the bed dipped as Dwalin leaned over it to look down at him. The guard looked furious.

“Why were you by yourself? You know that you’re supposed to find another guard any time you’re alone!”

“Didn’t seem dangerous.” He tried to shrug but his neck throbbed and he almost gasped at the intense, unexpected pain.

“Yes. And we can all now see how idiotic that idea was. We’re moving on.” Bilbo glared at Dwalin and squeezed Thorin’s right hand. Thorin hadn’t even realized the hobbit was holding it. What was he on? “You’ve been heavily sedated by Gimli’s uncle, Óin. He’s an excellent healer. He said that you were stabbed with something sharp and very pointed. It had some sort of sap on it. One he hadn’t seen before.”

“You need to drink lots of fluids to help flush it out of your system.” Dwalin added helpfully. He grabbed Thorin’s free hand and felt his pulse. It seemed a little dramatic to Thorin.

“What day and time is it?” Panic came quick and hard. Dwalin met his gaze and tightened his grip on Thorin’s wrist. His pulse was spiking.

He’d lost the ring. He’d lost the ring and who knew how much time!

“It is the twenty ninth. You were out all night and most of this morning. You’re not attending the ball tonight, healer’s orders. Thrain has ordered you to bed rest for the next three days until he is certain that you are in no danger.” He couldn’t control the spasm that went through his entire body at the news. He didn’t have time! He had to dance, he had to spend all the moments he could with Bilbo!

He had to know if the hobbit was his Sanzeuh… How could he know? He didn’t have the ring.

“Bilbo,” Dwalin said suddenly, his gaze still locked on Thorin’s, “would you gather the herbs Óin left? You’re better at identifying greens.” Bilbo gave his hair one more tug and his hand another squeeze before slipping off the bed and wandering into the outer chamber. Thorin waited only until he was out before turning back to Dwalin.

“Whoever it was has stolen the ring.” Dwalin carefully released Thorin’s wrist and gripped the blanket and furs atop the bed instead.

“They what?”

“The ring-it’s gone! I had it before I was stabbed. When Gimli and Legolas found me it was gone.” Thorin sucked in air through his nose and tried not to sound too frantic. His heart was pounding and he could feel his blood thrumming through his veins. His entire body felt like it was trembling.

He didn’t have the ring. He had no way of proving that he had a Sanzeuh. How could he escape the marriage without it?

How could he _know_?

“I’ll tell the Kin-”

“No!” Thorin’s eyes shot to the door and he swallowed before speaking again at a lower volume. “No. Do not tell him anything. I do not want him to know until I have a plan.”

Dwalin studied him with a heavy gaze. “Very well. Don’t you dare give up though.”

Thorin’s eyes flickered towards the door Bilbo was coming through before he could stop himself. “I will not.” Dwalin gave his head a short, sharp nod and stepped back. Bilbo climbed up on the bed next to him and placed a hand on top of his head.

“Well, on the positive side, you’re not running a fever.”

Thank Mahal for small favors.

-[]-[]-[]-

"Whoever has done this will know my wrath." The words were quietly spoken, barely hearable from the other side of the room. Thorin heard them none the less. He turned his still throbbing head to look at the fire and his father. The king had his hands behind his back and was staring at the crackling flames with a glare Thorin had not seen since they had battled for Khazad Dum.

"Are there any leads?" His voice was a little croaky, but it carried across the room. Thrain turned his head slightly towards Thorin. The fire cast shadows across his face and made it look more angular. More ancient.

"Not as of yet. You were unseen in the hall until Gloin's son, Gimli, found you."

"Legolas as well." Thrain gave his head a stately nod and Thorin watched as his hands tightened into fist. It was odd to see his father betray emotion. Especially over him. 

"Yes, the elf was quite opportune in his timing. He is Gimli's intended?" Thorin nodded his head and winced as it caused his neck to once again throb. He'd been pierced by some sort of slim dagger with the unknown poison. Oin expected it would take him the rest of the week to properly heal from it.

"Do not move you head, son. Oin has ordered that you are to remain rested."

Thorin nearly nodded his head again in understanding. He managed to stave the motion and wave his hand instead. The king turned to face him and Thorin felt the full weight of his father's gaze. It trailed over him slowly, taking in his injuries with a darkening scowl. It promised pain for whoever it was that had attacked him. 

It was odd to see his father looking at him with such obvious worry. He wasn't used to any sort of obvious affection or care from the dwarf. He had to show any affection in a reserved manner. Attachment was something Thrain always believed could, and therefore would, be used against him.

"Am I to simply stay in bed then?"

"Yes." Thrain started towards the door. "Lord Smaug and Lady Tumra will be here for your final ball. Have you found none to fit the ring yet? None whom you desire? There is still time."

Thorin could not manage to do anything but shake his head. It made his neck throb again but the pain didn't distract him this time.

Thrain paused with his hand on the frame. "Is there anything you wish to tell me son? About anything?" 

Thorin's pulse jumped and he felt a strange tingling through his entire body. He had a lot he needed to tell, and wanted to tell. He wanted to confess that he had been robbed and admit that he loved Bilbo. He wanted to proclaim that to the world. He wanted to describe what he felt near the halfling and ask his father if that was how he'd felt near his mother.

But he didn't want to be told that it wasn't. To be told that without the ring he'd have to marry Tumra.

"Nothing, Ada."

-[]-[]-[]-  
 **-October 3-**  
 **-4 days left-**

 **SMUT WARNING FOR THIS SECTION!!!**  
-[]-[]-[]-

Thorin was quite possibly going slightly stir crazy.  He’d been confined to his room for three long days, and he had not been allowed any visitors. Dwalin guarded his door religiously, and allowed no one through. His father had made it very clear that no one was allowed to visit him and all guards were to dedicate their efforts into learning who had dared to attack Thorin.

As far as Thrain knew Thorin had no visitors. Dís had visited him five times, and brought Fíli along each time. Frerin had snuck in four times, and Balin as often as he could. Bilbo had been over more than anyone. He'd brought Bofur, Ori, Nori, and Gimli over once, and Frodo over a different time. He'd brought the cats and anything else he could think of to entertain Thorin. Thorin had seen him three times the first day, six times the second day, and only once today.

Currently he was sitting at the table in his room with a pile of paperwork, a quill, and a very unimpressed hobbit.

“It’s not as though I can stop working, Mizim. Royalty cannot let illness stop them.”

“And if you fall ill again?” Bilbo carefully shut the door to Thorin’s chambers and flicked the lock. He had an armful of bottles, books, and a basket of food. He deposited the items on the table.

“I will not. I have had no ill effects since the attack.” Bilbo went to the fireplace and tossed another log onto it.

“Which they have still not found the shekâl (coward) that did that.” He poked the fire more harshly than was ever needed and returned to the table. He glared at the paperwork and Thorin was quite certain his heart skipped a few beats.

It was probably ridiculous to feel so cared for from something so simple. “I am not over taxing myself, Bilbo.” The hobbit pulled the bottle away from his pile of items and grabbed an empty cup. He tipped the contents of the green bottle into it slowly. It was a deep amber liquid, almost the color of honey.

“I think you need to take a vacation. Get away from all of this.” He nodded his head towards the papers to indicate what he meant by ‘this’ as though Thorin hadn’t already gotten the clue.

“I would need to be ill for that to be of use. Which I am not.”

“True, a good laugh and a long sleep will heal whatever ails you faster than anything else.” Bilbo said with a small smile. He passed the cup of amber liquid over and waited for Thorin to take it. “Personally, I think you could do with more of both.” He studied Thorin with a slight tilt of his head. Thorin was used to the gaze and just sipped at the liquid. It was a beer, a Shire vintage and was actually quite good.

Bilbo continued to stare.

Thorin kind of liked it. He enjoyed being the center of Bilbo’s attention. The hobbit was the center of his attention whenever he was present. (And often when he wasn’t) It was reassuring to have the same. “A long tumble in the sack wouldn’t go amiss either.”

He spluttered and spilt the drink on the table. Bilbo laughed loudly and brightly and dropped  a towel on the mess. Thorin didn’t care that it was trailing off the table and onto his trousers. The paperwork could fend for itself.

“Are you offering, Mizim?”

Great Mahal, what had he just said? Had he taken complete leave of his senses? Bilbo would think he was only after his bo-

Bilbo tilted his head and smiled coyly. “If I am?”

The world very well may have stopped for how still everything around Thorin suddenly seemed. He didn’t realize he was standing up until Bilbo’s laugh, light as the air around him, echoed in his ears. It was a joyous sound that made his blood turn hot.

Bilbo walked around the table and smiled. His eyes were inviting and Thorin very nearly swayed at their sight. “I would accept _you_ without a moments hesitation.”

The firelight reflected off of Bilbo’s skin and turned the pale flesh to a smooth, rich golden hue that Thorin longed to stroke. Shadows played over his chest with each breath, and Thorin was helpless to look away as Bilbo walked towards him.

“Then, Sire,” He murmured playfully as he reached for Thorin, “I am at your service.”. The hobbit’s hands pressed against his chest, the fingers spreading out and covering as much area as they could. Thorin’s breath hitched and his chest jerked with surprise as the hands trailed down until they grasped the edge of his tunic. Bilbo met his gaze again and Thorin felt as if he were under a spell. The hobbit tugged the fabric up slowly, his eyes never leaving Thorin’s. His fingers brushed along Thorin’s chest and the slight contact had Thorin nearly trembling. His breathing was erratic and his heart was hammering in his chest.

“Thorin.” Bilbo breathed before tugging the tunic up over his head and off. He hadn’t even realized he’d raised his arms.

“Bilbo” Thorin wasn’t sure if he thought the word or actually breathed it, but it was his only real thought. Bilbo, Bilbo… Because his thoughts always seemed to revolve around Bilbo now. It seemed like they always would.

He was surprised when the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He hadn’t realized they’d made it to the bedroom. He fell backward, tugging Bilbo along with him on to the warm furs and blankets. Bilbo settled on top of him and placed both his hands on Thorin’s chest to brace himself. He leaned in close and his eyelashes brushed against Thorin’s cheeks as his eyes fluttered close. He pressed a deep, slow kiss to Thorin’s lips before pressing up and trailing his hand along Thorin’s face.

“Thorin,” Bilbo gasped against his mouth. The hobbit dug his fingers into the hair beside Thorin’s braids and tugged while Thorin’s hands grappled with Bilbo’s belt. It was a corded thing he couldn’t figure out how to untie, and ended up jerking really hard. The braided fabric made a loud ripping noise and Bilbo tossed his head back to pant in breathes.

“Did you just?” Bilbo gaped down at him, his pupils growing larger.

“It was in the way.” Thorin growled out. He had never wanted something so much. He pulled Bilbo’s leg up, over his hip, and tugged his chest closer. He could feel the hard length of him pressing close to his own, and Bilbo pressed a sloppy kiss to his lips.

“Thorin,” Bilbo said again as his lips traveled down his throat. Bilbo brushed his beard aside and nipped at his clavicle. Thorin’s body spasmed and he gripped the fur as hard as he could. “Thorin, what do you-what are we-”

“You,” Thorin panted in return. He managed to tug Bilbo’s breeches free and the hobbit kicked them off.

“Me?” Bilbo tugged on Thorin’s trousers and he lifted his hips so the hobbit could shove them down. They got to his knees and Bilbo pushed them off the rest of the way with his feet.

It should not have been so hot.

“Yes, you. On top. Please.” He felt heat blossom on his cheeks and he had to turn his head to the side. It was far too much to keep looking at Bilbo and speak. He had not been this open, this honest with anyone before. He was giving Bilbo power, power he would never get back.

And Thorin had very little power of his own. Very little that was ever his to do what he wanted with.This was something he could give though, and he desperately wanted to. He wanted Bilbo as his first (and last) no matter what happened in the next week, he wanted Bilbo fully.

He didn’t expect the kiss or the almost painful grip of Bilbo’s hand on his hip. “That,” another kiss that stole his breath, “sounds like a _wonderful_ idea.” Thorin returned the kiss and let his fingers get lost in Bilbo’s soft curls.

“You would really let me do anything, wouldn’t you?” The words were spoken against his lips, a statement or question, Thorin didn’t know.

Thorin swallowed, or tried to, but he found it nearly impossible. A strange, creeping, hot sensation was traveling along his veins and making his head almost dizzy. He found it hard, impossibly so, to draw in the lightest breath. Languorous desire welled up in his chest and he wanted whatever was happening to continue. He wanted to yield to Bilbo, to be taken without having to think.

It sounded like freedom.

“Yes, I trust you, Mizim.” Bilbo’s face lit up, happier than Thorin had ever seen it. He felt as though he was filling with light and joy and he wanted to open himself up completely to Bilbo. He trusted him, was fairly certain he _loved_ him. He had never loved before, whatever he felt for that other dwarf was nothing to this. This burning inferno in his chest that knew only one name.

 _Bilbo_.

Bilbo who was now kissing him as well as he could while tugging his smalls off. He lifted his hips so the hobbit could and let his mouth be thoroughly ravaged before the hobbit pulled back and tugged his own smalls off.

Regardless of how much he liked the idea of being dominated, Thorin would not be a passive bed partner. He pressed his head up until his lips were almost against Bilbo’s. “Besides, there is nothing you could do that I would not want,” and he licked Bilbo’s lower lip with a flick of his tongue.

Bilbo’s hand stilled on his chest for several long seconds and then Bilbo was kissing him again. Sweet, tender, and so very urgent. Thorin gripped him as tight as he could. He closed his eyes and wished. He wished that this wouldn’t have to end and that he could claim the beautiful hobbit as his Sanzeuh.

It didn’t seem possible without the ring. He couldn’t know.

“This is your first time, right?” Thorin nodded his head and passed the bottle of oil he used for his hair to Bilbo.

“Yes, and I will not hear anything about being gentle. I have asked you to take me, Bilbo.” The hobbit took the bottle of oil and locked eyes with Thorin. Adoration was heavy in his gaze, along with joy and challenge.

“My prince,” He purred as he drew his hand and the oil back. “I will have you screaming.” He poured the oil onto his fingers and Thorin’s heart pounded. He hadn’t actually thought this would ever happen.

He smirked as Bilbo’s gaze raked over him. “You can try, Mizim.”

He managed to lift a leg, opening himself up, and giving Bilbo more access to his body. The hobbit’s hand trailed up his thigh and then around his his botto-

He stroked Thorin’s entrance, and he felt as though every nerve in his body exploded simultaneously. He had touched himself, of course, multiple times. He had fingered himself and achieved an orgasm off the sensation, but he had not been prepared for _this_.

Bilbo moved his finger inside Thorin with practiced ease that made Thorin wonder if he had done this to himself-the image of Bilbo riding his own hand made Thorin grip at the fur he was on top of and spread his legs wider. They were starting to burn from the position but he would die before he willingly moved.

Then Bilbo wrapped the hand that was not stretching Thorin around Thorin’s cock and Thorin was fairly certain his heart stopped for several beats. Bilbo’s hand was far smaller than his, and far softer. It jerked him off at a fast pace, the same one that he was using to stretch Thorin.

One finger became two, and that became three as Thorin thrashed against the bed. He tried to control his volume, but he wasn’t certain how successful he was.

The fingers twisted up, as though they were searching, and then they pressed against a spot Thorin had heard rumor of but never managed to find. He jack-knifed up, off the bed as liquid fire shot through his veins.

“Mahal!” He bellowed, and the force of the shout hurt his throat. Bilbo grabbed his hip and pet him as a giggle left his kiss-swollen lips.

“I take it you’ve not found that before?”

“No, and I am ready. Enough of this. Take me, now.” Bilbo gave his hip a squeeze and slipped back.

“Fine, bossy. On your stomach though. You’re legs are going to cramp and that does not make for a good time for anyone. As much as I’d like to see you come apart, I won’t have you hurting.”

Thorin rolled over and pushed himself up. Bilbo scooted nearer and placed a hand on his shoulder. It trailed down his spine and made him tremble. “My goodness.” Bilbo murmured, his voice little more than a breath, “you are going to take me against a wall someday soon.” He pressed his back against Thorin and adjusted their stance.

“You and walls. You have an unhealthy-” He bit off as something slick and blunt pressed against him. Bilbo’s breath hitched. “ob-obsession with -uhn- walls.”

Bilbo pressed in slowly, and it was far more than the fingers had been. Thorin welcomed the slight burn of the stretch. He wanted it all, pain and pleasure. This was happening and he wanted to remember it with every move later. “Can’t help it.” Bilbo grunted once he was fully in. Thorin dropped his head and focused on breathing.

This was happening. He was actually having sex with Bilbo. The hobbit was pressed against him as intimately as possible. He was pressing kisses to his spine and moaning as he drew his hips back. He was actually inside of Thorin.

They were one.

Bilbo thrust back inside and Thorin moaned. He closed his eyes and fisted the blanket as Bilbo repeated the movements. He set up a steady rhythm and Thorin tried to match it, albeit a little clumsily.

Bilbo was not complaining.

“I Can’t help it.” He repeated after several long minutes. It took Thorin a bit to remember what they had been talking about.

“Why?”

“You’re strong, and tall, and big.” Bilbo panted with each thrust and Thorin had to bite his lip to keep from moaning obscenely. “You could pick me up without any trouble. I could-oh-watch your- yes!- muscles…” The hobbit trailed off and thrust hard, pegging Thorin’s prostate perfectly. The dwarf jolted and gripped the sheets at the ecstasy that flooded through him. It was gathering in the pit of his stomach. A tight, hot, twisting cord that was taking him towards the edge. He nearly bit through his lip to hold in a shout.

Bilbo pressed his cheek against Thorin’s back and drew his hips back until he was barely in Thorin. Then he held still.

“Why have you stopped?” Thorin pushed back as well as he could and arched his back. Bilbo stayed almost completely withdrawn, refusing to move his hips and give Thorin what he wanted.

“Because you are holding back. Do you have any idea what your voice does to me?” He thrust back in and Thorin moaned at finally being full again. “I could listen to you talk,” another thrust that teased at his prostrate, “moan, or shout, for _hours_.” Bilbo nosed along his spine before sucking a kiss below his shoulder. He felt teeth and grinned at the realization that it would leave a mark.

“Then I suggest you make me talk, hobbit.”

Bilbo grinned wolfishly against his back and rolled his hips harder, pressing deep inside Thorin and nailing his prostrate. He earned a gasp from low in the dwarf’s chest and Thorin could feel a chuckled against his back.

“Yes” he managed, his voice broke as Bilbo kept thrusting, pushing him down into the mattress. The blanket was a wonderful friction against his cock and chest, and Bilbo was so _hot_ all across his back, and he was so far inside, and so large…

His hobbit’s arm wrapped around his midsection, tilting him back against Bilbo’s chest. He felt fingers splay up his neck to turn his head so that he could see Bilbo. Thorin didn’t know what his expression was, but Bilbo’s was _exquisite_. His mouth was soft and red, and open to heave in air, and his eyes were so blue and green and dark.

Bilbo’s other other hand was down, over his hip and wrapped around his cock. Each stroke was causing another twist of the arousal deep in his chest and Thorin was quickly losing clarity of thought. Thorin grabbed at Bilbo’s hip as well as he could, trying to draw him closer while he fisted the blanket with his other hand. It did nothing to keep him grounded because his body was being driven across the sheet with nearly each thrust.

He could hear Bilbo's strangled grunts mixed in with own incomprehensible sounds.

Bilbo re-angled himself so that he was able to hit Thorin’s prostate. The speed and ferocity of his thrusts combined with the intense stimulation and nearly overwhelmed Thorin. His vision bled into a single blinding streak of light. He knew he was probably shouting, but he had no idea what the words were beyond the pounding of his heart and the rushing in his ears.

He orgasmed with startling intensity. He hadn’t realized he was so close and he lost control of everything. His body shook with spasm as the tightness in his chest exploded outward in a brilliant rush of ecstasy and stars. Bilbo clutched him closer and his thrusts turned frantic for an impossibly long moment before he spasmed and bellowed into Thorin’s back. Warmth burst inside him and then they were both falling fully forward.

“I,” Bilbo started after they had laid still for several moments. Satisfaction was consuming Thorin and he didn’t want to move despite the mess. He was warm and sated and Bilbo was perfect against him. “did not intend to do any of that when I came over. This beat the late snack idea I had.”

“High praise,” Thorin managed. His voice was hoarse and he winced wondering how loud he had been. “I was better than food?”

Bilbo withdrew from him and dropped down at his side. He pushed up and closer until their faces were right next to each other. He pressed a soft, tender kiss to Thorin’s lips. “Better than any feast, my prince.” Bilbo’s hand made it’s way into his hair and Thorin let his eyes slip close as a wonderful exhaustion creeped over his limbs. The hobbit’s leg draped over his hip and more skin was pressed against his.

He fell to sleep with a smile on his lips.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Misunderstanding alert ahead!

_Ah yes, the past can hurt. But, from the way I see it, you can either run from it, or learn from it._   
_-Rafiki ‘Lion King’_

 **-October 4th-**   
**-3 days left-**

* * *

 

Thorin woke up slowly, and groggily. He was sore in several places, most of which he had never really been sore in before. He was tangled up in the fur and blanket and laying on his stomach.

A giddy, silly grin lifted his lips as he remembered why he was sore. He had slept with Bilbo. The hobbit had held him and kissed him and took him apart with tender touches and passionate strokes. Their bodies had joined and he had never felt so happy. He wasn’t alone anymore. He had Bilbo now. Thorin had overcome his fear of trusting, and he had given the hobbit his heart.

And last night Bilbo had accepted it and given Thorin his own heart in return.

He managed to free his arms and he pushed up with his left one and reached over with his right one. He wanted to wrap the hobbit he had fallen asleep with up in an embrace. He was filling with warmth for the hobbit and felt as if he would bubble over if he didn’t hold him right this very now.

There was nothing but cold sheets.

Thorin shot up as quickly as he could and looked over. It hurt his back and lower body, but not enough to even begin to encourage him to lie back down.

Bilbo was missing. The bed was still rumpled from where he would have been laying, but he’d obviously been gone for a while. The sheets were utterly lacking his body heat. Thorin’s stomach twisted and a terrible icy uneasiness spread through his chest as he sat back on his legs. The blanket slipped from his body and crumpled to the ground. Evidence of their previous night was littered across the bed and floor. Thorin’s clothes were strewn about, the oil was under the pillow, and the cloths Bilbo had cleaned him up with were in a pile on the basin.

The room was utterly quiet, devoid of life and his hobbit. Thorin was alone in a chilly room that was missing Bilbo’s bright presence. He was naked, cold, and aching.

He slipped off the bed in confusion and picked a tunic up from the floor. He slid it on and trudged into the outer chamber, hoping that his hobbit was simply stoking the fire or something. He ached with each movement, and did not look forward to the remainder of the day. He would be expected back in court today. That would mean knight practice, council meetings, open court, and at least two hearings.

It would be an uncomfortable day.

He pushed the door to the outer chamber open and looked around before swaying slightly and gripping the door frame. The room was empty and the fire had died. The remains of Bilbo’s late night snack and Thorin’s paperwork were still on the table.

Bilbo’s clothes were all gone.

What had happened? Why had Bilbo left him? Had he done something wrong? Had he not been-had he disappointed? Surely Bilbo would have said something last night?

He hurried back into his bed chamber and pulled a pair of breeches from the ground. He slipped them on and fastened them before heading towards the door to the hallway. It was morning, Dwalin should be guarding his door.

He tugged the stone open and a guard that was _not_ Dwalin was standing at attention.

“My lord,” he greeted with a partial bow. Thorin peered around the hallway and felt his shoulders drop at the lack of any Dwalin.

“Where is Dwalin?”

“He left on business and assigned me to guard your door.” The guard puffed up a little at what he clearly considered an honor. Thorin felt a little dizzy. Bilbo and Dwalin were missing. He was being abandoned by everyone.

“Has anyone been by?”

“A hobbit left this morning right after I arrived. He told me to tell you ‘goodbye’ and that he wouldn’t be back. ” Thorin took a step back and gave his head a stiff nod. He tightened his facial features and reached for the door with an unsteady hand.

Bilbo had left him.

“Thank you. Alert my father that I will tend the knight practice?” The dwarf opened his mouth to say something but Thorin pushed the door shut. He was not going to be able to hold himself together for much longer and he could not afford to let _anyone_ see him crumble. He took another step back and tried to keep his feet steady. It was hard, impossibly so, to walk when it didn’t feel like he had legs. Breathing was difficult and his heart was trying to beat properly but it felt like it had forgotten its usual rhythm.

Thorin slipped to the ground by the table. He buried his face in his hands and fought to keep from choking as he gasped for air that wouldn’t come. Something deep inside of him (he suspected it was his heart) was breaking. It was a physical sensation, the pain of the rejection and being used. It was a terrible ache that made it feel like he was being stabbed. There was nothing left to hope for. Nothing left to do but bleed from the gaping wound in his chest where his heart had once been. He had given it away to the hobbit and had been used in the worse way by the creature he loved.

Mahal’s beard, he _loved_ Bilbo. He loved the hobbit that had taken the only thing Thorin had to give, the only thing that was truly his to give away, and tossed it aside as though it was not even worth his attention. He had been wrong, so very wrong to think he could have Bilbo’s heart. To think he could have someone to love.

He was destined only to ever be used by those he fell for. Perhaps it was simply Mahal’s mercy that he was destined to marry Tumra. She could not hurt him as he could not truly love her. In their loveless union he would at least be safe. There was nothing to risk when he had no heart.

Hope was nothing but a lie. It was evil and only lead to devastation. Thorin would never be its puppet again.

He understood now. His father had been horribly right. If you did not feel you never gave anyone power over you. The minute you felt, affection, friendship...love, you gave them power to hurt you.

To betray you.

Thrain knew the pain first hand. He had lost Thorin’s mother at a young age, and had not looked for another. She was his sanzeuh, and the pain of the loss could still occasionally be seen in his eyes. A deep ache that would steal the breath of whoever saw the king in his weakness. Now Thorin, like his adad, had lost his own heart.

What a pair they made.

-[]-[]-[]-

Thorin’s father had set up guards to make certain he didn’t actually fight. He was allowed to supervise the other knights training but he was not permitted to actually participate.

It made him furious. The one time he needed to hit something he had to watch.

He went to the council meeting and took a seat beside his sister without glancing over. Dís and Frerin could always read him and he didn’t need them to try today.

It hurt to sit down. What should have been a pleasant reminder that he had joined with the hobbit he loved was now a painful reminder that Bilbo had left him.

 _Goodbye_ …

He didn’t understand. It made little sense from any way he looked at it. Even if Bilbo found his presence repulsive, he was powerful in the kingdom. He had wealth, status, and more power than any other dwarf save Thrain. He was not exceptionally attractive, of course, but he was strong… Surely he was not horrible?

And it was not like Bilbo. The hobbit he loved was funny, insightful and so very kind. He was not malicious or evil. He was not a traitor.

Though, that was what every traitor was. Was that not the worst part of betrayal? They were _never_ from enemies.

“Thorin?”

He pointedly ignored his sister query and kept his gaze straight ahead, over Balin’s head. He sat tall and proud in his chair and looked beyond the fact that his tutor was frowning in concern. He had to clench his jaw to keep his breathing steady and he kept his hands fisted under the table where they could not be seen.

The meeting seemed to drag on for longer than ever before. Namely because the topic of choice was his quickly approaching nuptial. He was, thankfully, required to give very little input.

He could feel his siblings stares on his form the entire time. He didn’t return them and kept as still as much as possible. The pain in his heart was too hard to bear whenever he had to move. They could see past his facade, they always could. No longer how strong he looked, they never believed it.

The council meeting ended and Thorin slipped away as quickly as he could. He had a while until open court started, and he did not want to speak with anyone.

“Thorin,” Dwalin sidled up to him and assumed his position as body guard. Thorin stiffened all over and tried to appear as though nothing had occurred.

“How went your business?”

“Inconclusive. How are you faring? Did Shasta remain at his post?”

“Yes.” Thorin headed towards the upper level as quickly as he could. He went by the most populated path and breathed easier when his siblings got lost in the crowd.

“You are trying to flee?”

“I am trying to escape my siblings questions.” Thorin replied vaguely. He avoided Dwalin’s gaze and tried to focus on where he was walking. If he could keep from really thinking he could keep from really feeling.

“Then they have found out?” Thorin nearly slowed his pace but he managed to keep steady. They were nearly halfway to the unfinished level.

“Found out what?”

“That Bilbo knows.”

Thorin misjudged the distance to the step and nearly stumbled. He caught himself at the last moment, aching, and turned to face the guard. Dwalin’s eyes were wide and his hand was an inch from grabbing Thorin’s arm.

“What are you speaking of?” Dwalin jerked back and his mouth popped open in surprise. It was strange to see the seemingly unshakable dwarf look surprised.

“You don’t know?”

“Obviously.” He sighed and tried to keep standing straight. It was easier around Dwalin. He always found himself unconsciously trying to match the dwarf’s taller height. “What is it, Dwalin?”

“Bilbo,” Dwalin rushed, the letters stumbling over each other so that it hardly sounded like the hobbit’s name at all. “He found out.”

It took a moment for Thorin to process the words so that he could understand them. A dull pain throbbed near his heart when he processed the hobbit’s name. He had a feeling it was something that would not disappear. “Found out what?”

“That you are marrying in four days.” Dwalin stepped closer, his eyes wide and his expression frenzied. He reached towards Thorin but drew his hand back.

No one ever touched him. No one but Bilbo.

“What?”

“The papers in your room? One of them was a tax report on your ‘wedding’ expenses. The hobbit found it. He must have assumed-”

“That I was using him? That he was nothing more than a fling?” Dwalin nodded his head and Thorin very nearly swayed. He needed to sit down and focus on breathing. Everything had just changed. The pain in his chest exploded outward and made his skin tingle and his limbs quake. He had to run, to find Bilbo and explain everything. He had been _wrong_ horribly and utterly wrong. The hobbit thought the worse-he was probably feeling what Thorin had spent the morning feeling.

Why had he been such a gutless shekâl?(coward) He should have been honest with his hobbit the moment he had felt his heart start to flutter in his presence.

Fear was costing him everything. He had not tried the ring on because of fear, and now he was causing Bilbo pain because he’d been afraid to explain. He had been to afraid to ever try and find a Sanzeuh before his father's deadline, and now he was going to lose the one that held his heart because he'd been afraid of his past.

“Do you know where he is?” Thorin shook his head in irritation at himself and stepped back. He was being thoughtless! It was Wednesday which meant that Bilbo was in the kitchen. “Nevermind. Alert my father that I will be late? Thank you.”

Thorin turned on the steps and ran for all he was worth.

-[]-[]-[]-

“Bilbo,”

Finding the hobbit was not difficult.

“Bilbo, please,” Catching him was another matter entirely.

“Allow me but a moment-” They were outside the kitchens, near the gates to Erebor. He had run to the kitchen and been spotted before he could enter. Bilbo had tried to runaway but Thorin caught him at the door.

“I can’t!” Bilbo wailed out, he wrapped his arms around his chest and Thorin watched as he trembled. Everything inside him was screaming, begging him to make the hobbit understand.

“You do not understand, Mizim. We can be happy if you will but-”

“No! I can’t make you happy, Thorin.” Bilbo’s eyes were wet and so wide. Thorin had never seen such eyes. They looked liquid and he could _feel_ their pain. “I can’t _make_ you smile or laugh, I can try. Eru, do I try, but I can’t make you anything. You have to be happy, Thorin. Only you can make yourself happy.”

He took a step back,  a step away from Thorin and it felt like there was a chasm opening between them. A bottomless thing that couldn’t be crossed. “It’s too much pressure to put on anyone. To expect them to make you happy. I can’t be yours, not when you will _never_ be mine.” He shook his head, tears glistening in his beautiful eyes. “And I knew that. You told me time and time again that it wasn’t _your_ choice who you married. It’s my fault, all of this. I just-I can’t.  I’m sorry, but I’ve got too much to be responsible for without letting my heart pine for a forsaken love.” He took another step back and the chasm grew wider as Thorin grew colder. Urgency made his fingers tremble but it closed his throat up. He couldn’t speak. “I don’t want that kind of love, and I certainly don’t need it. Not when I want... From you...” He shook his head again and took another step back.

“Bilbo,” It was all he could say… It was all there was to say because it was everything. A statement, a plea, a promise.

A hope.

It was going wrong! He was supposed to explain and they were supposed to be together. He just needed a moment to explain. “Thorin,” Bilbo shook his head again. He took one more step back and turned. “I can’t see you. Please, just… goodbye.” He ran and for a terrible moment Thorin did not think he could follow him.

 _Goodbye_...

Thorin remembered his legs and ran. He ran like he had never before run. He chased after the retreating hobbit not caring that others would see him. He was dressed in court regalia, with a  crown, jewels, and cape. There was no mistaking him for anything but royalty.

Thrain could be disapointed about his lack of decor. He had found his Sanzeuh and had _years_ with her. Thorin was not going to allow his to disappear simply because it would make him look less impressive.

He cornered Bilbo at the gates to the city. He wrapped his arms around the hobbit’s waist, and careless of the small crowd they were drawing, proceeded to drag him kicking and screaming into a closet.

No one tried to stop him. The crown on his head allowed him to get away with abductions, apparently.

“Put me down!” Bilbo shrieked. He pounded his fist against Thorin’s arms but Thorin held on. Bilbo would not be able to hurt him and he didn’t care if he did end up injured. He was going to hold on until there was nothing else to do.

“You will listen to me, Mizim! You owe me that.”

“I owe you nothing!” The words were finished with a well aim kicked that cracked loudly against his plated braies. He worried momentarily that Bilbo would be hurt, but hobbit’s had thick feet.

“You slept with me and ran, Bilbo. You left me no word of what happened. I was left thinking you were nothing more than another Golg. You owe me a moment. I will hold you down if I must.” He set Bilbo on the ground and grabbed his arms before he could flee. He spun him around so they were facing and pushed the hobbit against the wall before crowding him there with his own body. He held the hobbit’s wrists in his hands, careful not to squeeze less he hurt him. “Or have you forgotten how _strong_ I am? If I recall it was the _one_ thing you admired about me.”

“Before you used me.” Bilbo bit out. He tried to tug his wrist free before giving it up for the futility that it was and glaring at the wall to their left. He would not look at Thorin.

It was surprising how much that hurt.

“I will release you if you allow me a moment to explain.” He moved back the slightest bit so that he wasn’t pressing Bilbo into the wall. The hobbit continued to glare for a moment before he turned his head and met Thorin’s gaze. Thorin let his eyes show all that he was feeling and wishing. He never allowed himself that. It was far too much vulnerability.

He could allow it for Bilbo. The hobbit’s mouth opened and he released a tiny, surprised breath. He nodded his head. “I-I’ll let you explain.”

Thorin released him and took another step back. “Do you truly think I would use you so cruelly? After what has happened to me do you truly think I would ever do the same to another? That I would let _you_ _take_ _me_ if I were merely ‘using’ you? I have shown more of myself to you than any other.”

“I _think_ that real life isn’t a fairy tale, Thorin.” Bilbo said, and his voice cracked. He turned his head away so he wasn’t staring in Thorin’s eyes any longer and Thorin felt the loss deep in his chest. Bilbo was trying to pull away. “Prince’s in shining armor don’t just show up on your doorstep to sweep you away from life. That doesn’t happen. You simply reminded me of that fact.”

“No,” Thorin agreed. He reached forward and corralled Bilbo’s left hand. He tugged it near, and the hobbit had to turn to face him again. “However, _this_ prince didn’t show up on your doorstep. He showed up at a buffet table eating your canapes incorrectly.” Bilbo huffed out a laugh and it was the single most broken sound Thorin had ever happened. “And I don’t want to sweep you away from life. I want to build one with you. That is all, ghivashel (Treasure of all Treasures). I wish a life with you.”

“You’re getting married. In a very short amount of time.” He refused to meet Thorin’s eyes and it made him feel as though his heart was freezing.

“My father knows the truth of my heart. I will never love the dwarf he has betrothed me to. He has allowed me a chance to find my Sanzeuh. I was given the thirty days  before Durin’s day to find another. I am allowed this last chance to find the one my heart speaks to.” Thorin sent a prayer to Mahal and continued. Bilbo had yet to run away. “That is the reason for the balls. They were a chance for me to mingle and find him. I had little hope, and I was near despair that first night when you found me.” He was helpless against the smile tugging at his lips. “You, the hobbit who would burgle away my heart.”

“But that doesn’t happen, Thorin. You can’t find true love in, what? Thirty days? Life doesn’t work that way.” Bilbo glanced at him for a second, but it was enough to return hope to Thorin’s chest. “Fairy tales don’t actually exist.”

He looked up again and Thorin’s gaze caught in the impossible brightness of Bilbo’s eyes, the blue and green hues made all the more intense by the tears filling up in them. He wasn’t aware he was raising his hand until he was cupping the hobbit’s cheek. Until he was cradling the warm face and stroking his thumb along the soft flesh. Bilbo blinked and Thorin felt safe in the gaze.

He stopped breathing. There it was. The answer, and it was so simple.

"Fairytales," Thorin mumbled, feeling lighter. "will always speak of the same things. A honorable prince who sweeps into rescue the damsel in distress." Bilbo looked away and Thorin had to duck to keep the gaze.

"In our fairy tale I'm not your Prince, Bilbo," he whispered. "You're mine."

Bilbo gasped softly and his hands tightened around the fistfuls of Thorin’s tunic that he had. Thorin hadn’t even felt him grab it. "But-" he stuttered. "You have to - you need to find-"

"It's you," Thorin said around a strange, broken laugh. "It will always be you." He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Bilbo’s. “You save me, Bilbo. You save me.” He laughed again, and it was painful. A sound that stuck in his throat and broke from his heart. It was mingled relief and hope, and a deep, deep assurance.

Bilbo was his heart. Ridiculous perhaps, but he loved the hobbit. He had found his Sanzeuh. With a ring or not, he knew that the hobbit held his heart. “You are my Sanzeuh. It is to you that I will cling. You have freed me from the dark loneliness and shown me that I do not have to be cut off simply because I am royal.”

“You, you love me? Me?” Bilbo sounded so confused and uncertain that Thorin had to pull him nearer.

“Khlnâtel, Bilbo.” His hobbit’s brow furrowed in confusion. “To the end of all ends, Mizim. Forever.”

“Khlnâtel.” Bilbo tasted the word and Thorin shivered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost ended this pre-reconciliation but I couldn't do it :)


	11. Chapter 11

_Because you saw me when I was invisible._  
 _-Mia 'Princess Diaries'_

**-October 4th-**   
**-3 days left**

**LOTS OF SMUT IN THE FIRST SECTION!!!**

* * *

 

“So you thought I had just wanted to sleep with you?” They were still in the closet, though they had relocated to the floor. Thorin had Bilbo in his lap and he was holding him as close as possible. Bilbo had his cheek pressed against Thorin’s chest and Thorin had his cheek pressed against the top of Bilbo’s curls.

“When I woke alone that is what it seemed like.”

“You do know that I’m not interested in that sort of thing? Adding notches to my bedpost? Getting the most conquest?”

Thorin tangled his fingers with Bilbo’s and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to remember the pain. “In my heart? Yes. When I woke and you were gone, with the message of ‘goodbye’ I could think of nothing but how Golg had used me to his own ends. I was certain that you had done the same. That there was something wrong with me. I was clearly unlovable.”

Bilbo pulled out of his embrace and looked up at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. “Unlovable?” He asked before pulling his head back and looking around as if he wanted to see if anyone else had witness Thorin’s apparently ludicrous statement. “you? With people like Golg in the world you think _you’re_ unlovable?”

“I’ve had very little reason to believe otherwise, Bilbo. Remember the balls? I could not entice a single dwarf for a single dance. I could not even earn the loyalty of one I had long considered a friend.”

“I love you, you silly dwarf. And they were all idiots.” His voice trailed off as he looked at Thorin.

Thorin who was finding it very hard to breath suddenly. “You love me?”

“Of course.” He paused and his eyes grew wide. “Oh, you-you didn’t know? Oh, Thorin… I love you. A lot.” He grinned in a helpless way that was not making it any easier for Thorin to breathe. “I think about you more than I ever should, and I’ve burnt several batches of scones because of that. You make me laugh when I want to pout, and you make me happy when I’m sad. You’re probably the smartest person I’ve ever met, but you’re remarkably clueless on basic social interaction. That makes you horribly awkward and I can’t help but love even that.” He shrugged dismissively, as if every word he was saying wasn’t completely shattering the world Thorin thought he had lived in. As if he hadn’t just made the entire thing flip around so that it would never- _could_ _never_ \- be the same.

Bilbo ran his thumb along the back of Thorin’s hand and buried his other hand in Thorin’s hair. He tilted the dwarf’s head and dragged it down so he could press a quick kiss to Thorin’s lips. The ache that had taken up residence deep in his chest eased, and Thorin let a breath out. Bilbo kissed him thoroughly and the slight scratch of his hobbit’s nails against his skin helped to ground him.

The hobbit had remarkably clever fingers and he didn’t notice that his tunic weskit and cape were being untied until they were pushed open. The cape fell off his shoulders and Bilbo’s hands went to the buttons of his tunic.

“Golg can join Morgoth for not realizing the jewel he had in his hands.” Bilbo murmured against his lips. Thorin tightened his hands around Bilbo and clung on as well as he could. “Actually, he can just go join Morgoth for ever thinking he could use you.” his hands moved Thorin’s tunic away and slim fingers pressed against his chest. “For thinking that he was even worthy of standing in your presence.”

Thorin did not know when his hands stilled or when Bilbo pulled away. He knew only when their gazes caught. “You are far too grand for the likes of a simple hobbit like me, but I should very much like to keep you. If I may.”

“Only if I may keep you in return.” Bilbo’s grin turned from soft and fond to wicked and cheeky in a blink. Anticipation rolled down Thorin’s spine and settled low in his stomach.

“You may _have_ me.” He purred and Thorin was incapable of stopping the way his body jerked towards Bilbo at the words. Bilbo’s hand dragged down his chest, tugging at his hair. His eyes were smoky and so inviting. “There seem to be several nice, sturdy walls around.”

Thorin laughed, loud and quick, much to his surprise. He wrapped his arms around his hobbit and pulled him to his chest as tightly as he could without risk of injury. “Someone might intrude, Mizim.”

“All the more fun, don’t you think? Besides, that’s what locks are for.” Bilbo pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Take off your crown and jewels. Put them under your cape. I can put an apprentice braid in your hair if that helps. No one will know who you are and you won’t have to worry about anyone thinking less of you.” There was another kiss that was followed by a scrape of teeth. “Please?”

Thorin’s hands were already working absently on Bilbo’s buttons. “Have you perhaps thought of this before?”

“Did I mention the burnt scones?” Bilbo giggle, a delightfully bubbly, bright, noise that made Thorin feel like he was holding sunlight. He loved Bilbo. He loved this hobbit more than he had ever loved anyone.

Bilbo, still giggling, grasped his crown and lifted it off his head. He placed it on the ground and pressed a kiss to Thorin’s brow. His hands combed through Thorin’s hair and he shivered as they brushed along his ears. He couldn’t look away from Bilbo’s eyes. The tangle of colors seemed more complex than ever before. He shifted through gems in his head, desperate to find one that could match the beauty of Bilbo’s irises.

“What say you, my âzyungâl?” A whimper escaped Thorin’s lips and his fingers seemed to grow clumsier at the bottom of Bilbo’s shirt. He had never thought he would hear someone call him that. Lover. He had a lover, and he was a lover. Someone loved him. He had never imagined, never dared to even hope, that he could have someone as incredible as Bilbo.

Thorin tugged the hobbit nearer and wrapped Bilbo’s (bare! when had he shed his breeches?) legs around his waist. Bilbo clutched at his shoulders without any encouragement and Thorin stood up with Bilbo in his arms. “ _Valar_ ,” Bilbo gasped out as his hands scrambled along Thorin’s shoulders. He picked his way across the floor, being careful to make sure the door was actually locked. “You just deadlif- how strong are you?”

Thorin chuckled and pressed Bilbo’s back against a wall. He held him still with one hand and braced his other hand against the wall. He attached his lips to Bilbo’s throat and set about tasting all the skin it had to offer. “Mizim, you would need to be three times as heavy before I struggled. I am a dwarf. We are made to be strong.”

“Mmm, don’t I know it.” Bilbo got his hands under the hem of Thorin’s tunic and tugged upwards. Thorin pressed Bilbo against the wall and lifted his arms up so that Bilbo could drag the shirt up and off. He wrapped his arms back around Bilbo and pressed a kiss to the hobbit’s lips.

A glass jar of something was pressed into his hand not holding Bilbo up while he explored his hobbit’s mouth. He pulled back and looked down and was helpless against the grin that claimed his lips.

“Prepared, Mizim?” He uncapped the oil and poured some on his fingers. He twined them together and turned his gaze on Bilbo who was eying him like a cat about to pounce.

“It was not for that, but I see no harm in using it. Now. Continue.” Thorin chuckled and adjusted his grip on Bilbo. He hadn’t thought sex could be like this. Bright and full of laughter. It seemed like laughter would be rude. Not appropriate in a way. It fit with Bilbo, the joy that the hobbit brought out in him had to be expressed.

“Bossy, Mizim. Perhaps I should leave you to your own devices. Or find a bed.” Bilbo rolled his hips against Thorin and made the dwarf’s words abruptly cut off in a moan.

“I don’t think you’re going anywhere, my Prince.” Bilbo laughed and Thorin growled.

He moved and Bilbo’s laugh choked as Thorin finally gave in and slid his finger in to breach the hobbit. It was a warm tightness utterly unlike anything he’d ever felt and he was helpless to stop his own hips from shifting slightly in anticipation.

This was nothing like fingering himself. Nothing with Bilbo was anything like doing it himself.

Bilbo’s breath deepened and his head pressed back into the wall as a gasp left his lips. Thorin adjusted his grip on The hobbit and drew his finger out and pushed it back in. He repeated the simple motion again and again and kept his gaze locked on Bilbo’s face. The hobbit’s cheeks were flushed and his mouth was wide open.

“Oh!” He panted, back arching, “Thorin!” He swirled his hips and shuddered as Thorin lifted him higher on the wall. “Yes! Ungh, another!”

Thorin dropped his head and pressed it against Bilbo’s shoulder for a moment before looking up at him. “Are you sure, Mizim?” Bilbo’s eyes snapped open and locked on Thorin with startling intensity.

“Thorin, I want your cock as quickly as possible. Give me another one.” His lips were already swelling from where he had bitten them. Thorin twisted two fingers together, and, eyes roaming over Bilbo’s face greedily, he thrust them in. Bilbo dropped his head to steal a kiss and mewled into his mouth as he stretched his fingers.

“Yavanna yes, like that. Oh! Put more muscle into it. I’m not going to break.”

Thorin couldn’t help but press closer to Bilbo and push him into the wall.He moved his fingers faster and tried to keep his hips from grinding up into his hobbit. He was nearly trembling against the need to remove his fingers and replace it with his cock. To thrust up into the warmth and feel his hobbit stretch around him. He dipped his head and pressed his lips to Bilbo’s throat.

“I am going to make you incoherent,” Thorin promised against his throat as he ground up into his hobbit and spread his fingers. “You will not be able to talk or think,” he paused and a grin that was probably thoroughly wicked lifted his lips, “or _walk_.”

Bilbo _shuddered_. He pressed back against Thorin and the sheer amount of skin on skin was very nearly overwhelming. “Don’t-oh!-Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Sire!” His head hit the wall and Thorin felt a flash of worry that he would hurt himself. “You’ll have to thoroughly prepare me, though. You’re a lot larger than a hobbit.” Bilbo bit his lip at the end and pressed his head back into the wall as Thorin pumped his fingers. “I think I’m ready for another.”

“I have done this to myself on multiple occasions, Mizim. I am aware of the process.”

“You,” Bilbo scrambled at his shoulders, trying to crawl higher up on the wall so he could better ride Thorin’s hand as he added another finger. It was an incredible sight. “oh! Why did you never say anything? Yavanna! I would have -oh!- loved to see that…” He trailed off and clenched his eyes shut. Thorin pressed up, searching. “Would have made you prepare yourself-YAVANNA!”

Bilbo was clearly not concerned with volume. He did make it quite clear that Thorin had found what he was searching for. He pressed against the gland again and Bilbo thrashed against the wall. He had hardly any room to move but he was making up for that by clawing at Thorin’s back. He would leave a mark.

That really should not have made Thorin grin so giddily.

He continued to work his fingers and stare at Bilbo greedily. Every noise he managed to eke out of the hobbit he memorized and sought for more. He took deep kisses from Bilbo's lips and devoured his noises that way. Bilbo finally pushed him away and rolled his hips daringly. "I'm ready! Yavanna's hoe, I am so ready!"

Thorin lined himself up without really looking too properly and pressed inside. Bilbo arched his back with a noise that was very nearly a scream and tossed his head from side to side. His hands clenched at Thorin’s back and his eyes screwed shut.

Thorin was uncertain what his expression was, or where his entire body was at the rush of pleasure thrusting inside brought. Bilbo was _perfect_. Tight all around, warm, and real. Bilbo’s knees were digging into his sides and his hardness was pressed against Thorin’s stomach. The hobbit was nearly rutting against him and mewling in a delicious way that did nothing for quieting Thorin’s mind.

He hadn’t even moved yet.

“Go on, please, have me.” Bilbo panted out and Thorin did. He had a very hard time controlling the speed of his hips. He rolled his hips up and forward faster and faster, slapping against Bilbo’s skin with a sound that he loved almost as much as Bilbo’s gasping moans.

“Eru’s song, are you quite certain you haven’t done this?” Bilbo asked, rolling his hips against Thorin in a wonderfully mystifying way. It was odd to be standing, and slightly unnerving to be in charge of keeping Bilbo up. If he lost his grip there was no telling what damage could be done. Still, there was skin everywhere in front of him, and it all demanded his attention. He could lick and nip at whatever he wanted.

But Bilbo was incredible to watch. He was pressed higher on the wall with each thrust and he snapped his eyes closed and clawed at Thorin’s skin.

“I believe I promised that I would have you unable to talk?” Bilbo nodded his head without opening his eyes. “Yet still full sentences. Clearly I must try harder.” He moved back the slightest bit so that he had more of Bilbo’s weight and let go of his restraint. He thrust up hard and Bilbo howled.

“Thorin!” Another thrust, “oh!” He would make the hobbit speechless yet. He pulled Bilbo’s head down and kissed him luxuriously for a long moment before releasing his hobbit’s head. He slipped his still oil slick hand between their chest and grabbed hold of Bilbo’s hardness.

He stroked in time to the thrust of his hips. Bilbo gasped at each hit and then suddenly he stilled. Thorin locked his gaze on Bilbo’s expression, his face was tight, nearly pained, before it surged with bliss. Nonsensical words fell from his lips and he shook over Thorin. He was unable to stop his own gasp as Bilbo tightened around him. His hips drew back and thrust in without direction, and then he was almost frenzied, desperate to reach the peak he could feel tingling in his skin.

The coiling pleasure in his chest tightened to a point of no return and then it burst into a thousand lights and he stilled with Bilbo nestled against his hips. His orgasm was intense but he kept his hold on Bilbo.

There was a moment of nothing but harsh breaths and heat.

“Chrysocolla.” Thorin mumbled against Bilbo’s throat. He wasn’t certain how he was still standing but he wasn’t going to let Bilbo fall. The hobbit was trembling against him and making tiny, mewling noises.

“What?”

Thorin lifted his head and braced himself with a hand on the wall. He looked up at Bilbo and felt a deep satisfaction at the haziness in the hobbit’s eyes. “The color of your eyes. Chrysocolla.”

Bilbo released his breath in what was probably supposed to be a laugh and tightened his hold on Thorin’s shoulders. He shook his head and stared at Thorin with pleasantly flushed cheeks. “I’m not even sure where my toes are and you want to talk about gems?”

“No, I wish to stare at your eyes that I have finally found a description for.”

-[]-[]-[]-

 **-September 5th-**   
**-2 days left-**

-[]-[]-[]-

Thorin had never in his life been so nervous. His father was seated on his throne with an unreadable expression and he had Bilbo by his side. He had his Sanzueh and he was presenting him to the one person that could stop them from being together.

And he had no proof that it was his Sanzeuh. He had no idea what his father would do.

He had announced who Bilbo was, and now he was waiting. It was all he could do.

“U ruthukhmizim, Thorin? (Where is the ring, Son?)” Bilbo stepped closer at the rumbled khuzdul and Thorin gripped his hand all the tighter.

“U agrîfat u men, Adad.(It was taken, father.)”

Thrain sat back in his chair and his mouth popped open. That was quite possibly the most surprise he had ever seen his father betray while he sat on the throne. Doubt about his earlier decision to remain quiet flickered in the back of his mind but he forcibly blocked it out. There was no point on dwelling on what could have been. He had not spoken up. He had remained quiet and he would deal with those circumstances.

“Thorin...Men lushamukh hi lu ruthukhmizim. Men katub.(I cannot accept him without the ring. You know this.)” Thorin gripped the stone armrest, “My son…”

Thorin refused to be swayed. To feel. “Men oagriff. U Bilbo men  Sanzeuh. Men kurdu.(Yet I do not have it. This is my Sanzeuh. My heart.)”

“Men luagriff Bilbo garif al ruthkhmizim.(I cannot give Bilbo until I have proof.)” Thrain’s eyes were wide, and the stone was nearly cracking under how tightly he was holding onto the throne. Thorin’s chest felt odd, like it was turning to ice. The only warmth left in his body was his hand, which was still clutching onto Bilbo like a lifeline.

“Men galab ogamut?(Is my word not enough?)” Pain flashed across Thrain’s face but it was gone too quickly to mean anything.

“Lugalab u menu kurdu. Men katub ozirkh Tumra.(Not with your heart. I know you do not wish Tumra.)”

“Men zirkh u’Bilbo. Men luzirkh maheru Bilbo.(I wish only Bilbo. I will never want another.)” He tightened his hold on Bilbo and the hobbit stepped nearer in response. He wouldn’t understand most of the khuzdul, but the tone was apparently clear.

“ _Men_ oshândab u mahâysît. Lushamukh ruthukhmizim.( _I_ can not grant this union. Not without the ring.)” Thorin took a small step back. Thrain leaned forward, a desperate light in his eyes. “The contract will allow no other exception. My son, why did you-” He paused and stared at Bilbo. “Will you allow me a moment alone with my son?”

Bilbo nodded his head. He gave Thorin’s hand a squeeze and tugged him down by his beard to press a kiss to his lips.

It felt like a goodbye.

Thrain didn’t speak until Bilbo had left the hall with Dwalin. He waited for the guard to return and give his head a nod.

“Thorin, _I_ cannot break this contract.” Thrain stared into Thorin’s eyes but he was incapable of returning the gaze. He took a stumbling step back and braced himself on the nearest pillar. He was stuck. There was no escape from the vice tightening around his heart and the noose coiling around his neck. “The only escape _I_ could grant was the ring. _I_ cannot do anything.” The King stood up but it was too late. Thorin was nearly at the door.

“Understood.” Thorin turned and pushed the door open.

“Thorin, bazig! (damn it) STOP!” For the first time in his life, Thorin didn’t listen. For the first time in his life, he ran from his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is the wall sex scene that Bilbo has been dreaming about for ages now, and more angst because I can. Also, lots of khuzdul. The next story I write is going to have _lot's_ of khuzdul in it so I figured I could go ahead and get a little more practice :)


	12. Chapter 12

_Some say our destiny is tied to the land, as much a part of us as we are of it._  
 _Others say fate is woven together like a cloth, so that one's destiny intertwines with many others._  
 _It's the one thing we search for, or fight to change. Some never find it. But there are some who are led._   
_-Meredith ‘Brave’_

* * *

Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin’s waist the minute he left throne room. Thorin wiggled out of the hold he was desperate to be in and took the hobbit’s hand instead. Dwalin would hold the others off for as long as he could, but it would only be a few minutes. Thorin could not afford to waste his time.

“Thori-”

“We must be quick, Mizim.” He tugged Bilbo forward and the hobbit fell in step with him without another word. Thorin went as quickly as Bilbo could along the extremely familiar path. He went up, avoiding every guard and dwarf that he could.

He didn’t stop until he was on the unfinished level. He released Bilbo’s hand and turned away, unable to look at Bilbo. His eyes stung and his heart felt ragged. Like it had been shredded and bruised and was only just continuing to beat. He stepped towards the edge and saw Bilbo flinch horribly out of the corner of his eye. Did the hobbit think he would jump?

“What is it, Thorin?” Bilbo lurched forward and lifted his hands before dropping them again

His heart ached, more with Bilbo so near and unattainable. It had all been for _nothing_.

“My father will not allow the match.”

“But, I thought you were allowed the thirty days?” Thorin shook his head and looked at the expansive city below him. Dwarves were going about their days without being aware that the world Thorin lived in was about to become little more than a prison.

“He has revoked the right. He will not honor our match.” Thorin sank to the ground as reality seemed to close in around him. There was no escape. There was nothing to do. He was going to be alone, and in the dark-

Bilbo’s hand settled on his shoulder and the hobbit sank to his knees beside Thorin. He clasped Thorin’s hand in his own and looped the dwarf’s arm around his shoulder. He tucked himself into Thorin’s side and closed his eyes.

“Then we still have a day, right?” Thorin trembled. He pulled Bilbo as close as he could and clenched his eyes shut, blocking out all the light and color of the city below him. Bilbo was all he could feel. He pressed his face against the top of Bilbo’s head and brushed his nose through the soft curls.

It was not fair.

“Yes, Mizim.” Bilbo’s fingers tangled themselves into the back of his hair and tugged gently until Thorin lifted his head. One hand released his locks and smoothed over his eyelids. He opened his eyes and saw Bilbo’s looking back at him with a deep sadness laced with determination. 

He would think of way. A loophole, another option,  _anything_ , just something to allow him to remain at Bilbo's side. He would keep Bilbo forever. And not as a secret. He would clothe the hobbit in jewels and silks so all would know his worth.

He would not let his father win in this.

“Then let us make the most of it.” Bilbo got to his knees and worked himself free of Thorin’s hold, which felt like the opposite of making the most of it. He went around to the back of Thorin and grabbed a handful of hair at the base of Thorin’s neck. He pressed a kiss to Thorin’s cheek and then started to braid the hair. It made little sense why he would chose that spot as it was covered by the rest of his hair. No one would ever see it. “This is something I’ve wanted to do since I saw you that first night. You’re hair is gorgeous. Thick, soft, and a beautiful color. I wanted to braid it every time you’ve let me close. If… I want to do it now. This is a braid that Gimli taught me after he chose Legolas.”

“Have they all taught you braids then?” Thorin asked in a thick voice. He had not had someone braid his hair since his mother had passed on. Bilbo’s gentle tugging was the most soothing, incredible thing he had ever felt.

It was worse than being stabbed. This could be the only time he would ever feel it if he did not find a way.

“Yes. Bofur showed me how to do an apprentice braid, which I taught to Frodo. Ori showed me the proper braid for a traveler, and Nori for nobility. Bifur taught me a warrior braid.”

“Nobility?”

“Yes. My mother and father were related to the equivalent of nobility in the Shire. He thought it might help me not get so much negative attention from other dwarves.”

There was another kiss pressed to his cheek and the braid was given two little tugs before Bilbo dropped it. Thorin reached over to pull it around and lost his breath.

It was a courtship braid. Bilbo had even sealed it with the bead from his own braid. It would be hidden by the rest of his hair so he could wear it without earning wrath.

He would never take it out. He would wear it to the grave and never allow any other to touch it save for the hobbit.

Bilbo climbed onto his lap and Thorin wrapped his arms around the hobbit’s waist. He pressed his face against the hobbit’s neck and tried to breathe. The lump in his throat was painful, and he had a feeling it would be with him until he truly held Bilbo as a husband.

-[]-[]-[]-

 **-October 6th-**   
**-Day of the last ball-**

-[]-[]-[]-

_Save a dance for me?_

It was the last thing Bilbo had said to him before he slipped away with his friends into the dark of the early morning. Dwalin had followed him to make certain he returned to the lower levels without incident.

Tumra and her father, Lord Smaug of the Grey Hills, had arrived and would be attending the ball. He would meet them for the first time there. He would start the marriage proceedings in the morning. At least his father thought he would. If Thorin could think of nothing else, he would runaway with his hobbit in the night and marry him away from everyone else. There would be somebody in Middle Earth who  would marry them. He would not return to the throne until he had Bilbo as his.

For now there was nothing else to do. He had a ball to attend.

“You don’t have to do this.” Balin huffed as Dís passed him the blue mask. Thorin accepted it with a polite inclination of his head. He was not going as any creature tonight. He was dressed in full royal regalia, armor and all. It would not make for light movement. Still, his siblings had arrived early in their own costumes to aid him. He appreciated their support.

“It is my duty.”

“You don’t owe Thrain this.”

Thorin could not tell him the truth. No one could know his plans. They would be held responsible and Thorin would have no one else suffer for his choices.

“Where does my loyalty lie if not with my father?” Frerin tied the mask on his head with trembling fingers. Dís held her stomach and refused to look up. His brother was careful to avoid knotting his hair in the mask’s ties. His fingers brushed through the hair and paused when they revealed the braid buried in the depths of his locks.

Frerin removed his hand without saying anything. He stepped back and wrapped his arms around his chest.

What none of them understood was that who he married had _never_ been his choice. It was always a simple tool to aid his kingdom. Nobility were not afforded the right to marry for love. His father had given him a chance to find it. He had been manipulative and allowed Thorin very little time to do so, but he had given him a chance. It was Thorin's fault that he had lost the ring and not acted quickly enough.

And Thorin would have never met Bilbo without him. He would not have fallen in love with the hobbit and known what true happiness was. Regardless of what else had happened Thrain was the reason he had met the hobbit he loved. 

“Do not mourn for me, baruf.(family)” three sets of eyes snapped up to meet his. “I have been given much. This is a small sacrifice for all that I have. Tumra is friendly and will not make a miserable match.”

She would certainly have something to gossip about tomorrow.

Thorin regarded his shoes, and in a slightly ridiculous moment, decided against wearing them. He would have one more dance with his hobbit. Thorin would dance with him properly. His trousers were long enough to cover his feet completely and his cape would hide their bareness as well.

If anything went wrong, he wanted to be able to say he had danced with Bilbo properly, at least once.

Dís fisted her hand. Her eyes lit with a feisty fire that Thorin adored. His sister would be walked on by no one, not even him. Still, she didn’t understand. “But you should have _this_. You found your Sanzeuh! There is no reason why you should not be allowed-”

“And yet I cannot. I have no ring, and therefore cannot have my hobbit. There is nothing to be done but accept it. I have known this since I was eighty.” Thorin adjusted his cape so that he had a shoulder free from it. he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword and exhaled. “It is my own fault that I am without the one I love. I am the one that did not act. It was my cowardice that robbed me of that which I love. I am ready, will you accompany me?”

“Why are you even asking?” Frerin placed a hand on his shoulder and Thorin could barely feel it through all his layers. Dís covered the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his waist. He swayed in surprise for a moment before returning the embrace. Frerin’s arms wrapped around the both of them and Thorin let his eyes slip closed.

He had support. He had family and friends. It was what he had always had, though he had nearly forgotten… He hoped they would stay by his side no matter the future.

He opened his eyes as Frerin stepped away and took his sister’s hand. Balin had slipped out while they embraced. It was only the royal siblings now.

Thorin exhaled and strode forward with the two who had never left his side as he went to greet the one he did not want to ever leave his side.

-[]-[]-[]-

Tumra was dressed all in white with a black mask and yellow paint on her lips. Her dress was covered in large, soft, feathers. She had two large wings fastened to her back and Thorin might have chuckled if it had been nothing more than a meeting between them instead of a marriage.

She was dressed as a swan. Had Dís gotten hold of her?

She was indeed beardless. The sight did not bother him, but it was odd. She looked rather more like a short woman than a dwarf.

Her father was another matter. He had a thick, bushy, white beard and scraggly hair. It had fallen out in batches and he had clearly tried to braid it in such a way that it would cover the missing hair. He was shorter than Tumra and had narrow, close set eyes.

Thorin turned his gaze back on his future wife. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my Lady.” Thorin said as he approached her and her father.

“The pleasure is mine, Prince Thorin.” Tumra’s eyes darted to his before resuming their staring contest with the floor. “You are taller than I was lead to believe.”

 He preferred Bilbo’s abrupt honesty than polite observations. Rumor had him as tall as the statues that guarded the gate.

 _Hope_. A voice remarkably like the one he loved so much seemed to whisper in his ear. There could be a chance other than exile. He just had to think.

“And you are far lovelier than any rumor could convey.” Thorin dipped his head and lifted her hand to his lip. She was cool to the touch, far cooler than Bilbo.

“You flatter me, My Lord.” She kept her eyes down and Thorin felt her fingers tremble. She tensed her hand up and Thorin released her.

He might have just met his match in social awkwardness. He could imagine Bilbo laughing.

 _Think_.

“Yes, yes. Enough with pleasantries. When is the wedding?”

Thorin straightened and turned his head to look at Smaug again. He always disliked the Lord of the Grey Hills, but now he was fairly near loathing the man. What reason did he have to be impatient? It was not his wedding.

“Tomorrow morning. We commence at noon.” He would be long gone or free by that time.

Thorin let his eyes drift around the room while Smaug continued talking. He searched earnestly for familiar faces, for one in particular.  He had to find away. Surely there was something he could do… some way around the impossible situation.

“Well, why are you still here when we are at a ball?” Smaug tilted his head up and attempted to look down his pudgy nose at Thorin. It was pointless as Thorin was taller than the dwarf.

“Because I have only just arrived.” Thorin said absently. His eyes returned to Smaug from their survey of the room. Bilbo was not present. He had not yet arrived.

Surprisingly, he was the only one missing. Bofur and Nori were talking at a far corner. Ori was standing beside Dwalin and Thorin could just make out the enraptured look on Dwalin’s gruff face. Bombur and Bifur had Frodo between them. Gimli was standing alone near the back with a struck look on his face.

“Then you must at least dance with my daughter. It will do the people good to see their future Queen and King dancing.” Smaug glowered at Thorin as though he were causing him a deep personal grievance by not twirling his daughter around the dance floor right that second.

He seemed to forget that he was actually beneath Thorin in station. He could not order Thorin to do anything. There were very few who could. Only Thrain had the power to tell him to do anything.

Thorin had no reason not to dance with her, though. He had no one else to dance with since Bilbo was not yet present. His father was only just arriving as well. It would probably please him to see Thorin taking the initiative.

And he would want to spend the remainder of the evening in Bilbo’s arms. It was easier to think with the hobbit’s sweet scent and bright eyes.

He had to think. There had to be a solution. He could not be the only being in all of history who had been stuck in an arranged marriage and longed for another. Surely he had read another’s account of such a thing...

Though, he had been allowed to seek. Unlike most royalty stuck in arranged marriages he knew what he was losing. It was horribly cruel, and wonderfully kind. He would rather bear the pain of not having Bilbo than never know the ecstasy the hobbit brought him.

“Very well, if the Lady has no objections.” Tumra gave her head a stiff shake.

Thorin went past Smaug and accepted the hand of his Tumra for their first dance. The first step towards a marriage. Urgh.

Mahal give him wisdom.  

Tumra’s hand shook as she accepted his. Thorin swallowed thickly and tried to keep his free hand from fisting. His mind was a whirl of text, of memories and half formed ideas. “Let the evening commence!”

He was startlingly loud in the suddenly very quiet room. The words tasted horribly bitter on his tongue.

It changed everything. It was suddenly very real, and happening. He was tying his life to a dwarf. He was not being fair to her, or himself. He could not love her. He was not only physically un-attracted to her, he was incapable of ever truly loving her.

He had already given his heart away. He was betraying it, Bilbo, and Tumra.

Was this what his life would be if he married her? Would he feel depraved and self-loathing every time he touched or looked at his 'wife?' He could feel the braid on the back of his head. It was heavy with possibility and responsibility.

Thrain swept into the room as the music started. His eyes swept around the room before landing on Thorin and going wide. He held a ceremonial staff in his hand, one that was used to bless marriages. Despite the staff’s presence and the obviousness of the fact that he had intended to bless their marriage, he looked utterly shocked to see Thorin leading Tumra to the dance floor.

It made a deep well of bitterness spring up in Thorin’s stomach. This was his father’s fault. He was the one who had initiated a contract without ever seeking Thorin’s opinion on the subject.

He went to the center of the room with slow steady steps. He was shaking so hard that he almost toppled over. Everything inside of him felt like it was crumbling. For duty. He was dying inside for duty. For something as utterly unimportant as a contract.

And they were only _dancing_. He was not going to do anything else.

Other couples were joining them on the dance floor. He saw his siblings, and Gimli. He held Legolas’ hand without shame and the two were pressed close together. Oblivious to the rest of the world.

Gimli had found a way.

A sob broke through the heavy air and Thorin stilled. He half thought it was his own throat that the sound had come from but his mouth was still firmly shut. He looked around for the source and didn’t find it. The muffled cry pierced the air again and Thorin realized, with a feeling like being dunked in icy water, that it was Tumra that was sobbing.

She was shaking with the effort to suppress them at his side. He turned his head to fully look at her and found that she was trembling. She was fisting her hands at her side and forcibly blinking away the tears that streamed down her lace-masked face. Her lip was shaking and she had clearly locked her jaw in an attempt to stop from releasing her heart-broken sobs any more.

Thorin knew the sight of a dwarf that was trying to control their feelings.

A laugh bubbled up in Thorin’s throat and broke free. It shattered the air and merged with the starlight that was trickling down around him. It stilled the congregation more than the sob had. He laughed again, unable to stop it or the strange humor bubbling up in him. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. This was ridiculous, so ridiculous, and it would go no further.

There was only one real option, and it was what Thorin should have done the moment he kissed Bilbo. It might risk everything, but it was the only path he could take.

Thorin reached over and took Tumra’s hand. She tilted her head just enough to look at him and Thorin could not stop the beaming smile that spread across his face. He untied her mask with his free hand and pushed his own aside before he pressed his forehead against hers.

He laughed again. He half wondered if this was what what insanity felt like.

If it was, it was quite welcome.

He was an idiot. He could see it now. It was all so clear and he had very nearly signed his own doom. Bilbo was quite wrong, he was not all that clever. His father could not break the contract. _Thrain_ , was sealed in it.

Thorin, however, was not.

Perhaps it was why there had been so much emphasis... Before Bilbo Thorin would not have missed the inflection. The hobbit had robbed him of coherency. He had panicked and never once actually _listened_.

That was the way of the court. You were rarely free to speak openly, and loopholes were sought after with a passion. It was a language Thorin had considered himself an expert at. He should clean his ears for missing something so glaringly obvious.

He had never agreed to anything, and he had certainly never seen the contract.

“I know exactly how you feel.” He murmured to Tumra and he was once again unable to stop the bubbling laughter from decorating his voice. Tumra trembled against him and tears splashed down her cheek. She probably thought he was mocking her pain, or that he was quite mad.

He could hardly blame her. He had never lost so much control of himself in public.

Thorin gave her hand a companionable squeeze and released her. He stepped back and turned with a whoosh of the ridiculous cape he was wearing.  His father was staring at him with wide large, pale eyes. His hand was clenched around the staff and Thorin half imagined he saw a tremble.

He had been so wrong about so many things.

“Ada,” he said in a voice that boomed through the hall, “I will not marry this Lady tomorrow. My heart has chosen another, and I cannot do right by her now.” He turned to Tumra and grasped both her hands in his. She lifted her head slowly, and finally met his eyes. They were a pretty brown, and he could see his old fears reflected in them. They were wide and wet, uncertain and not daring to believe. “I am sorry to have drawn this out for so long. I hereby formally dissolve our contract. We will discuss new terms for the trade agreement at a later date. Be free, my Lady. Go to who holds your own heart.”


	13. Chapter 13

_A dream is a wish your heart makes when you're fast asleep. In dreams you will lose your heartaches. Whatever you wish for, you keep. Have faith in your dreams, and someday, your rainbow will come smiling through. No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true.--Cinderella_

* * *

 

 Thorin stepped back and released her chilled hands. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, hope was flooding his veins and there was a strange rushing sound in his ears.

He’d just freed himself. He had broken a contract and taken control of his own life. He had done it… He had declared himself as Bilbo’s. He would not betray his hobbit’s love. He would bear any consequences but he would marry none other.

Perhaps that was all his father had ever wanted? Regardless of if it had been a test, or a challenge, or an actual wedding alliance, it had made him look. It had shocked him out of the fear he’d let control his life.

The only cage he’d lived in (romantically) had been of his own making. The gate was now unlocked and Thorin would never be imprisoned again.

Not in this.

Someone grabbed his shoulder and jerked him to the right. Smaug stood in front of him, a furious glower on his face.

“How dare you!” Smaug pulled his hand back and then it was surging forward. Thorin widened his stance and prepared himself for the blow.

Which never landed. The hand was caught in midair and Smaug was jerked back. Dwalin moved in closer to Thorin’s side and Thorin looked on in utter shock as Thrain forced Smaug to turn around and face him by the wrist he had grasped. His father was several inches taller, and far broader than the Lord of the Grey Hills. Right now he looked furious, and the dwarf who had fought against a thousand orcs in the battle at Khazad Dum’s gates was easy to see. He was not just a king, he was a warrior.

“You will leave my son alone. Now.” Thrain’s voice was a low hiss full of promise. His eyes glinted with dark malice and everyone in the hall could see Smaug tremble. Unlike the Lord of the Grey Hills, Thrain had not grown slow or fat. “And never attempt to harm him again. If you do, I will have you arrested for treason against the crown.”

His eyes flickered to Thorin before going to Tumra. The dwarf was trembling and refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. “I suggest you speak with your daughter. We were overly hasty in arranging this marriage. The hearts of our progeny have chosen another. We dishonor Mahal and Yavanna if we do not grant them their Sanzeuhs.” He nodded towards Dwalin who grabbed hold of the furious dwarf and pulled him a few feet away. Thrain stepped closer to Thorin and looked down at him. Thorin was slightly dizzy.

The evening was not progressing in the slightest way he had imagined.

“So this is your choice, my son? I am grieved that my plans for you went against your heart.”

“You have known my heart, father.” Thorin stood to his full height and didn’t feel intimidated by the few inches his father had. He would not be moved in this. “Tumra would never have properly been loved by me.”

Thrain bowed his head mournfully. “Indeed, Thorin, that is why _she_ was _chosen_.”

Thorin’s mouth, which he had opened to make a snappy retort, clicked shut. He blinked at Thrain and tried to make sense of what he said. He tilted his head, considered, and then shook his head. He didn’t understand. “Chosen?”

“Yes. I intended to instruct you to break the contract whenever you did not find your Sanzeuh. This past day I thought you would understand that I was unable to break the contract but you could. Had I simply explained myself this would not have happened.”

Thorin betrayed no emotion. “And the thirty days?”

Thrain shook his head and grasped Thorin’s shoulder in a warm, firm hold. “I have not seen you look at anyone since Golg. You would not even consider the notion, my son. I have seen the sadness in your eyes. I would not wish the ache of my own heart on you.” He pulled Thorin nearer and pressed his forehead against his. “Especially on one who did not deserve your thoughts. It was an attempt to scare you into some sort of action.”

“Then why not simply give me the ring?” The world was shifting around Thorin, becoming clearer and brighter and so different from everything he had thought he’d known. He could have Bilbo.

He had been manipulated… His father had lied to him and manipulated him because he had believed that Thorin was miserable.

He was the reason that Thorin had met Bilbo… Thorin could not decide how he felt.

“I did not wish for you to ever have the ring. I considered it a hinderance to you. You would be too concerned with finding a hand to fit the ring, and not concerned with finding one to fit your heart. Or too frightened that one you loved would not fit the ring. Giving it to you was a desperate move that was not well thought out on my end. I could think of nothing else.” He glanced over at Tumra who was talking in hushed tones with a light-haired guard and holding his hand. “I knew that lady Tumra was in love with another dwarf and she seemed a perfect match. If you would not find your Sanzeuh, she had. She would break the contract.” He turned his gaze back to Thorin, and there was a sadness mingled with pride.

“I had underestimated just how much you would do for what you believed to be duty. Or that I would not have made myself clear. The failing in this was entirely mine.”

That was obvious. That was also the risk with any sort of manipulation. His father had played a very dangerous game with Thorin’s life. He wasn’t certain he could forgive that yet.

And Bilbo needed to be told the truth. 

A smile lifted his father’s lips suddenly, and the dwarf king took a step back. A hand landed on Thorin’s shoulder and he felt his mind still as he turned. Bilbo was smiling up at him, his eyes soft and reflecting the starlight. He was dressed in a green tunic and brown breeches with tiny white flowers braided throughout his hair.

Thorin could not have stopped the grin that lifted his lips if he wanted to. His hobbit was dressed as a pepper, with their blossoms in his hair.

“Sire?” His hobbit murmured. Thorin thought he could quite easily stay lost in his eyes without regret. Still, this was a ball and Thorin would not waste such an opportunity.

“Bilbo,” he breathed and reached for his hobbit. Bilbo was warm and soft and Thorin was quite certain he could never let him go again. “I take it I am not too late?”

“Mizim, there is only one in Erebor-in all of Middle Earth-with whom I can properly dance.” He tangled his fingers in Bilbo’s and stepped forward, tugging the hobbit towards him. Bilbo’s gaze dropped to the ground momentarily to see where he was going and they locked on Thorin’s bare feet.

His resulting smile was quite possibly the most beautiful thing Thorin had ever seen. “I see you’re prepared to dance properly.”

“I have learned from the master.” Bilbo’s hands tightened around his. The hobbit tucked his head under Thorin’s chin and pressed as close as possible in a tender embrace. Protective affection welled in Thorin’s chest.

“Balin said that you were allowed to marry me? That you had a -”

“Allow me to explain, Mizim?” Bilbo nodded his head and Thorin swallowed. “My father allowed me the thirty days if I brought him my Sanzeuh with a gold ring he gave me. It was gifted to me at my birth and was made to fit only my Sanzeuh. It was stolen from me while we were courting and I did not think there was any hope.” He swallowed again and glanced at his father who had a soft smile on his lips.

“It was not such. My father could not break the contract save for the ring. I, however could break the contract, Ring or not. I have done so. I will not marry Tumra, or any other dwarf.”

“What did the ring look like?”

“It was a gold wedding band. Unadorned with any jewels or engravings.”

“You absolutely silly dwarf.” Bilbo huffed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Thorin’s heart fluttered unsurely. “All of this drama because you didn’t have a ring? When were you supposed to receive the ring?”

“When I came of marrying age.” Thorin felt that Bilbo was rather missing the point. Bilbo shook his head and his smile grew larger.

“And how many years ago was that?”

“Ten.” Bilbo’s eyes were crinkling around the edges. Thorin was having trouble following the conversation with the amount of longing welling up in his chest. He needed to wrap Bilbo back up in his arms. He had so nearly lost him.

“And how many years ago did I come to Erebor?”

“Ten.”

“Precisely.” That meant very little. Thorin would not have found Bilbo any sooner just because he had the ring. It was a lovely thought though. Bilbo leaned forward and pressed his palm against Thorin’s chest, over his heart. “Did it never occur to you, for even a moment, to ask me about the ring? That’s why I was late getting here. Balin told me about it.”

“I did not have it for you to try on. What did it matter if I asked?”

“Because,” Bilbo said with that grin that made Thorin feel dizzy. “It’s a wedding ring.”

“So?”

“So,” Bilbo was nearly glowing with happiness and Thorin felt the same bubbling up in his chest. “I have one as well.” He dipped his hand into his tunic and pulled out a gold chain. He jerked it once and it fell from his neck. He opened his hand to reveal a familiar gold band resting on his palm. He pulled the chain away.

“My mother left it for me. She said I would need it on my wedding day.” He reached for Thorin’s hand and the dwarf allowed him to take it with a strange sense of wonder. He didn’t feel fully connected to the ground. Bilbo brought the ring near to his hand, and he watched with wide eyes as it grew larger. Hope pounded in his chest and he half worried he would faint from it all.

The gold was cool against his finger, and slipped on with no resistance.

The hall was remarkably quiet. Thorin hardly noticed it because there was a very loud roaring in his ears from just how hard his pulse was pounding.

The ring fit. It actually fit his hand.

“Bilbo,” he murmured. He hardly knew his own voice  and he was uncertain what expression he was making. He wasn’t even sure how he was still standing.

“Well, my prince, I think we have a fit.”

“It would seem.” He swallowed thickly and stepped closer to his hobbit. Bilbo’s eyes were large in the starlight and so vibrant. The colors seemed almost liquid and Thorin thought it would be very possible to drown in their depths. The ache in his chest had all but disappeared. There was now just a deep longing. A deep want to wrap Bilbo up in his arms and never let go.

“NO!” Thorin moved forward to block Bilbo’s body behind his. He spun to face the unexpected shout and saw Smaug struggling wildly, and pointlessly, against Dwalin’s hold. “How can he have the ring?”

Thrain’s expression darkened and he stepped forward. “How,” he asked with murder in his eyes, “do you know what the ring looked like?” He motioned for the guards to come forward and assist Dwalin. Smaug looked frantic.

“He can’t have it!” A shaking hand dove into Smaug’s coat and pulled out a familiar gold band.

“Take him away.” Thorin had never heard his father’s voice so menacing. Dwalin lugged the dwarf lord out of the utterly silent hall before turning to face Thorin. He crossed the floor in three steps and dropped the band into Thorin’s hand. “Put it on him. You have waited long enough, my son.”

Thorin did as instructed and watched as the ring tightened to fit Bilbo’s finger perfectly. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. the gold band on Thorin’s finger grew momentarily warm as writing appeared on the back. Khuzdul runes written in a thin script that spelled out two words.

Bilbo Baggins.

Thorin looked at Bilbo’s ring and saw his own name written on it. Heat surge in his chest and his heart pounded hard.

“Shall we dance?” Bilbo’s smile was coy and all that Thorin could see.

“That will mean we marry tomorrow.”

Bilbo stepped closer and twisted his fingers around the cord that tied Thorin’s cape. He smiled and looked up at Thorin through his lashes. “I am aware.” He stepped still closer so that his toes were pressing against Thorin’s. “So I’ll ask again. Shall we dance?”

Thorin unclasped his cape and let it fall to a pile in the floor. He would need his arms free for what he was about to do. The music started again and Thorin took Bilbo’s hand. He led the way to the center of the dance floor and bowed to Bilbo.

And then they danced. He ducked and twirled, jumped and clapped, waved his hands in the air and twisted his torso to the tune that was playing in time with Bilbo. He kicked his legs and spun around the floor until he was too dizzy to remain still, and he never let go of his hobbit. Bilbo did the same, and the hobbit’s bubbling laughter filled the hall.

He could hear his father’s laughter mixing in with Bilbo’s, as well as Dis and Frerin. Bofur and Nori were belting the lyrics out while Dwalin was swaying beside Ori. Gimli was holding Legolas’ hand and the two had their arms pressed together. Bifur had Frodo on his hip and he was bouncing in time to the music while Frodo clapped.

It was a breathless celebration of life and joy. What dancing should always be.

He drew the hobbit nearer and wrapped his arms around his waist. He lifted him up in the air and twirled around before hugging him close to his chest.

Bilbo. His intended, his Mizim, his sanzeuh.

-[]-[]-[]-

**smut warning for this section**

-[]-[]-[]-

Thorin gripped the headboard as tightly as he could, and was grateful that he had opted for a stone bed instead of a wood one. It would have cracked at his grip. His chest heaved and his back curved forward. His breath was coming in hot pants and there didn’t seem to be enough air in the room.

Bilbo’s smaller hand was traveling up the plains of his stomach, pulling at the hair there and scratching at his skin. Thorin watched him intently as the hobbit stretched and planted his feet more firmly against the mattress. He pressed his head back into the pillow and opened his eyes to stare at Thorin with a hungry gaze.

Each movement brought them closer to the brink, but Thorin wasn’t ready for it. He wanted this to last. If it ended Thorin would have to move, and he didn’t want to be parted from Bilbo. He didn’t trust that he could keep him. Everything had worked out too perfectly. Happily ever afters never actually happened. Not to him.

“Come on,” Bilbo urged, and rolled his hips a little more. Thorin cupped his face with the hand not gripping the headboard and tried not to break his rhythm. He buried his fingers in the soft, honey colored curls at the back of Bilbo’s head and dragged him up for a frantic, needy kiss. It was clumsy and had no finesse, but it was hot and consuming which was all Thorin really needed. He let go of Bilbo’s head but kept his lips against the hobbit and fisted the pillow. He hit that spot and a wave of ecstasy rolled through his body, settling at the base of his spine and coiling with the rest of his pleasure as Bilbo tightened around him.

His hand moved to Bilbo’s throat and he traced down the soft skin to his collarbone. Bilbo mewled against his mouth and grabbed Thorin’s waist. His ring pressed into Thorin’s side as Bilbo squeezed the skin there and then made to let go.

Thorin's free hand dashed down and landed on the back of Bilbo’s, capturing it and keeping the hobbit’s hold on his waist. He was not going to let it go. It was a telling gesture, and the way Bilbo rubbed soothing circles into his hip with his other hand made it clear that the hobbit had understood what all it meant.

He was giving the hobbit more power. There was not much left he could give. Bilbo had everything. He could so easily destroy him. He nearly had mere hours ago. Thorin was under no delusion. He knew he would be a slave to the hobbit forever. For the smallest affections from Bilbo he would do anything.

Yet he didn’t feel scared. He wanted Bilbo to know, to understand what he meant to Thorin. That the dwarf’s love for him was real. That he would not willingly be parted.

That when he said forever, he meant it.

Bilbo rocked up harder and Thorin thrust in deeper. He had to toss his head back and bite his lip to keep from moaning obscenely. His body burned from the exertion of the ongoing activities. They’d already had each other once, and Thorin was hardly a young dwarf, but he wasn’t about to mind. He wanted the ache. He wanted the proof that Bilbo was here.

“Stop thinking.” Bilbo ordered. He tugged Thorin’s beard and bit the dwarf’s lips when they were near enough. Thorin’s rhythm nearly broke at the way Bilbo was clenching around him and the pleasure of feeling him pull his hair. He managed to keep moving, to keep rocking in to Bilbo. It was too good to lose. He broke away from the kiss and pressed his cheek against Bilbo’s and trailed his nose up Bilbo’s pointed ear before flicking his tongue out to lick at the tip.

“There is much to think about,” He replied. He tightened his grip on the bedpost and refused to release Bilbo’s hand. His hobbit’s gaze did not leave his.

“And you can think about it later, âzyungel.(love of all loves)” Bilbo promised. He moved the hand that Thorin hadn’t captured up along his furred chest and pressed it over his pounding heart. “After. Right now I want you-” Bilbo trailed off and moved his hips faster in time with Thorin who was finding it harder and harder to hold back. He clenched his eyes and pressed his head back. Thorin focused on breathing in the stifling air. Pleasure tingled under his skin, the edge was so close but he couldn’t let it be over. Not when Bilbo was still so perfect around him and under him.

Not when he’d so nearly lost everything.

He shifted his hips so that he wasn’t pressing against Bilbo’s prostate. His hobbit’s eyes snapped open and locked on him. “Stop- oh!- I want you to just let go. I-” He shuddered and tightened his grip on Thorin’s waist. “I’m not leaving you.  Not now.” Thorin closed his eyes. Bilbo’s hand wrapped around his cock and he stroked himself at a fast pace. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying.”

“Forever?” Light was growing behind his eyelids. He was moments away. He pounded harder and Bilbo keened. His free hand flew to the fur and grabbed a handful in a vice grip. His head pressed back into the pillow and Thorin couldn’t look away from the pounding of his hobbit’s pulse. He wanted to nibble it. To leave a mark so that everyone would know this delectable creature was claimed.

“Khlnâtel! (to the end of all things)” Bilbo gasped out, tightening his grip. He rocked up as well as he could and howled as Thorin pegged his prostate once more. His eyes clenched and bliss flooded his features as he came around Thorin. The word and way Bilbo looked in the throws of his ecstasy drove through Thorin and made his entire body shudder. He released Bilbo’s hand and his hobbit threaded their fingers together without missing a beat. The gold band pressed into his skin as a reminder.

“Khlnâtel,” he breathed out. He opened his eyes and locked onto Bilbo’s intense gaze. Stars exploded in his vision, and ecstasy flooded his vision. He fell into it without fear.

Bilbo would catch him.

He heaved another breath and tried not to actually fall on top of Bilbo. He was a lot heavier than the hobbit and Thorin would not ever have him injured. His body tingled pleasantly as the last aftershocks rolled through him. He pulled out of Bilbo, wincing at the sting in his own rear from earlier before he settled beside Bilbo. He wrapped the lax hobbit up in his arms and let his eyes slip closed. He would see them cleaned up in a moment, but he just wanted to hold Bilbo for now.

“You know,” Bilbo murmured with a brush of his nose along Thorin’s throat, “I don’t think the best parts of fairy tales are the happily ever afters.”

Thorin slid his hand down Bilbo’s side, dragging him closer as he did so. His brain wasn’t quite up to full sentences yet. “Mmm?”

“No,” Bilbo continued as he brought his hand around to trail up Thorin’s chest, “ the best part is in the tinier details.”

“Which details?” Bilbo’s fingers curled into the hair at the back of his neck and he pressed up on his tip toes so that his lips were next to Thorin’s ears.

“The one before the happily ever after. The best part is that they lived. Together.”

Together. Thorin was quite certain he could handle that. He tugged his hobbit to the side and pressed a lingering kiss to his tempting lips.

He was going to like ‘ever after.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I came up with the idea of Bilbo having a ring as well after the part of Cinderella where she has the other shoe. If it was a wedding band, why _wouldn't_ Bilbo have one as well?
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


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